The Observer
by justok
Summary: Security Officer Ziem Sabide feels confident that she has what it takes to be an exceptional officer. And then she is assigned to a mission with most of the Alpha shift bridge crew. She gains insight into how our heroes work, some unexpected friends, and begins to question some of her goals.
1. Chapter 1-3

**This is old; I found it going through my files and thought I would publish it in honor of Veterans' Day as it was inspired by my brother in law's story about a forced camping trip he endured during Officer's Training School. At the time I was writing something for another audience about people failing to recognize love unless it looks like it should. Somehow the two stories combined. It was entertaining to me, but kind of a mess, so I never did anything with it. I enjoyed it when I reread it and thought I would throw it out there. It's finished, but I am trying to tighten it up, so I will probably put up about three chapters at a time. The first three chapters are the weakest, so I wrote the prologue to try and better set the tone for this funny little story. I am a little uncomfortable with it and am interested in whether or not people think it worked.**

Prologue

Two Days Before

"New orders Spock!" Kirk said happily.

"Yes Captain," the first officer replied.

The captain waited for questions about the mission, but the first officer continued to work placidly at the science station. The captain frowned and said, "Chekov, I am sending you some coordinates. Use them to plot a course to a planet called Phadru. It's in Zeta quadrant."

"Aye sir," said the navigator.

"Aren't you interested in knowing about the next mission Spock?"

"I am confident Captain that you will eventually relay all information you deem pertinent."

"And you are right, I will. I think you'll like this one Bones, it sounds fun."

The doctor, standing beside the captain's chair with his hands behind his back snorted and said, "I doubt very much it sounds fun Jim. They are almost never fun."

"Course plotted, Captain," said Chekov.

"That was fast," said the doctor, frowning at the helm.

"He's always fast," Kirk said. "Estimated time of arrival Mr. Chekov?"

"Seventeen point three hours at warp three Captain Kirk."

And at warp four?"

The ensign glanced nervously at the first officer. He opened his mouth but before he could answer Spock said, "Captain, Starfleet policy recommends all non-emergent travel anticipated to be less than twenty four hours in duration should be done at speeds not exceeding warp three."

The captain closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes Mr. Spock, thank you for the reminder. Mr. Sulu, proceed to Phadru, warp three."

The helmsman said, "Yes sir, setting course to Phadru, warp three."

The captain pushed some buttons on his screen. "There you go Spock, I sent you a copy of the orders, and since it's really more your kind of thing anyway you should organize the mission. Let me know what kind of crew you want. You are going to like this one Bones, we are going surveying."

"Surveying for what? Gold?"

"I wish! No, it's nothing so interesting."

Spock looked up from his screen, where the orders were displayed. "We shall be conducting a survey of land Doctor McCoy. We are ordered to perform an in depth scan on the proposed site of a smelter. Phadru contains significant resources of,"

"I don't care what they have Spock. They all have something, and the Federation always wants it. I never know what they want it for, and I don't care. Why do we have to survey it, that's my question? Why didn't they send a geologic team?"

"The site has been surveyed Doctor, and judged geologically appropriate for the smelter. Our work is to establish a record of the site's original properties so that environmental integrity is maintained and to aid in eventual reclamation."

"It will take us a week or so." said Kirk.

"The mission should be five days in duration." Mr. Spock said firmly.

"Unless something goes wrong," the doctor said in a tone that suggested something would definitely go wrong.

Kirk looked at him sideways and continued. "The landing party will be working on the smallest continent, in a completely undeveloped area, but there are cities on the larger continents. We should be able to offer the crew liberty while we are in orbit."

McCoy asked, "So you are going on leave?"

"Not me," replied the captain. "I'm going to go camping with the work crew."

"Why would you do that Jim? You could use some R and R; I thought you just said Spock was going to be in charge of this one?"

"He is Bones, he's in charge of the work party, and I'm in charge of the camping. It will be fun."

"It will not be fun, and I am not going."

"Why are you so incapable of seeing the potential of things?"

"I am a doctor, not a boy scout. If we are really going to have an entire week in peaceful orbit around a developed, class M planet I would like to spend it doing the things I never get to do because this ship is staffed entirely with catastrophes waiting to happen."

"Doctor," Spock began.

"I have CE credits I should work on, reports to file, records to update, a million things to do that I am always afraid to start because I can never be sure when you will next present me with a cargo load of injured. I am not going."

"Suit yourself, but we will need someone from medical. Send your pick to Spock. This is his mission."

"Sir," began Mr. Spock, but Kirk continued.

"We'll need someone from engineering, I wonder if Scotty would want to come?"

"Jim, you know that given the choice between a week to do maintenance on the ship and a week camping he's going to stay on the ship. He's got a longer to-do list than me."

"You're probably right. Too bad, he's always fun. Well, I'll ask him to send someone else then. It doesn't have to be an officer, it's unlikely they'll have to do anything harder than debug a tricorder, and you don't need a master's degree for that. I am going to have to tell Giotto too. That's never a day brightener."

"It is standard procedure for away landing parties to have security support." Mr. Spock said.

"Yeah, but Giotto is so serious about everything; he always acts like whatever I want to do is impossible, and he always wants to take the whole division. It is impossible to do anything fast when you have to haul half a dozen redshirts with you everywhere. But I guess it can't be helped. I will message him."

"Or maybe Spock would like to do that," McCoy said.

Kirk continued as if he hadn't heard. "We'll need someone from communications, hey Uhura, why don't you plan on joining an away team, alpha shift, forty eight hours from now?"

"Yes Captain," Uhura said, making a notation on her PADD. Spock glanced her way, and she smiled gently at him.

"Medical, science, command, communications, anything else Spock?" the captain asked.

"Geology sir, we will need experts trained in the environmental analysis work we will do."

The young captain's smile faded. "You're right of course, but that might be a little hard." The doctor looked at him worriedly, and frowned.

Mr. Spock continued. "I believe that as the ship has not yet been able to replace the members of the geology division lost in the massacre at Tormos successful completion of the mission will require that we use those few we have in the most efficient manner possible. Crew members with science backgrounds could do the actual work of surveying under the supervision of one geologist. The remainder of the department could stay on board ship to evaluate and store the information as we provide it."

Kirk said, "Whoever comes with us, this will be their first time off the ship since we lost half their division. It will be hard on them and we need to remember that."

"Very true captain," McCoy said softly.

"I wish it was different, but given the reality, Spock's idea is very good." The captain took a deep breath, and straightened his back. He looked around the bridge, searching for a distraction. His eyes lingered on the officers in front of him. He leaned forward and said, "Hey Chekov, want to go camping?"

The navigator turned toward the commander's chair. "Me?" he asked happily, mouth hanging open in surprise. The helmsman rolled his eyes and then reached over to lightly flick his thigh. The navigator blushed and said, "I mean, yes sir."

"Great, there Spock, I already got you one crew member with a science background eager to work. You're welcome. And you know what else? He could probably be in charge of tricorder maintenance and let someone from engineering go on leave."

"I am not sure that's a good idea." the doctor said. The ensign sighed, turned back to the screen and sank in his seat. The doctor frowned at him and grunted.

"Relax Bones," said the captain. "He won't get hurt. It's a rustic area. There are no native people objecting to our work, and I am going to be there. What could go wrong?"

"Are you kidding me? I know your track record, anything could happen. The ration packs will probably come to life and try to eat you, but their eyesight will be bad and instead they will grab hold of Chekov and he'll come back with his limbs chewed off or something."

Spock's eyebrows drew closer together. "Doctor McCoy, inanimate objects do not," he began.

The doctor interrupted. "I don't actually believe the ration packs will attack the captain Spock. It's hyperbole."

"No, it is inaccuracy Doctor." Spock returned to the topic, "Ensign Chekov and perhaps two others with science backgrounds. I shall check the duty rosters. I thought too Captain Kirk, that as we will be logging and working with large amounts of data the presence of a member of the yeoman's corps would be appropriate."

"I hope it's Rand. Chekov, do you want to bet on what her hair will look like after a week without product?"

The ensign glanced back wide eyed and shook his head vigorously.

"When he asks you a question you have to answer him," hissed Sulu.

"No sir, I would prefer not." whispered Chekov. Sulu rolled his eyes again.

"No? Are you sure? That's too bad; I am counting on you to not be boring on this mission Chekov. Are you up for the task?"

Chekov looked at Sulu who shrugged. "I shall try sir?" the ensign said, sounding very uncertain.

"Good man Chekov, that's the attitude," said the captain. "I only ask that you use your natural talents." The ensign looked at the pilot again and then slid even lower in his seat.

"Jim, for God's sake, he doesn't know when you are teasing," the doctor began.

The captain ignored him and continued, "I think we'll probably leave you in charge Sulu, so there's something for you to look forward to too."

"Yes sir," replied the pilot calmly, but he smiled at his board as if he were pleased.

"Will you discuss the staffing requirements with Mr. Giotto sir, or shall I?" Spock said.

The captain yawned and stretched. He said, "Oh, you go ahead Spock, this is really your mission, and I don't want to take over."

Chapter One

The Day Before

Precisely ten minutes before she needed to, Ziem entered the assembly room of the security department. She liked to come in early so that she could be assured a seat at the very rear of the room. She preferred to sit with her back against the wall. It was more comfortable, and she thought it was more polite, as she was so tall, and so, sturdy. And she liked to be able to watch the other members of the division as they came in.

Ziem loved this time of day. Security was always a high activity area. Everyone was loud. People walked into the meeting talking, teasing, bragging, and complaining. They kept it up, talking louder and louder, outdoing each other right up to the second the chief called for attention, and then immediately the whole room silenced and everyone focused on Lieutenant Commander Giotto. Ziem loved it. She loved the way the individuals immediately became a team. It was inspiring.

The chief walked to his podium and looked out at the assembly. Then, like he did every day, he coughed, grasped the podium with both hands and barked, "Okay. Listen up people."

Like puppets on strings, every head turned to him, every voice silenced. Satisfied that he had their attention, he continued. As he spoke, the screen behind him lit up, illuminating the stardate, and an itinerary for the day's meeting.

"First, some of you haven't done your six month recert on weapon safety. Get it done. It is every six months for a reason. I am not accepting excuses, and if your certification expires you will need to redo it, which means, as you all well know; you must repass the written component. While you are uncertified you will be ineligible for assignment. That means you will spend your time in here, doing the most unpleasant tasks I can find for you. Have I made myself clear on this matter? I would prefer to not repeat myself. Let's see if we can achieve 100% compliance by tomorrow morning."

He would, Ziem knew, need to repeat himself tomorrow, and the day after. And a few of the crew, she knew, would be recertifying from scratch.

The screen changed, showing a memo highlighted in red, from the head of maintenance. The chief continued. "Next up, maintenance reports that once again, food scraps have been found in the combat control consoles. You are not to eat while on duty. Period. The safety of the entire ship may depend upon it. I remind you, all sections of the ship are under surveillance at all times. If this happens again I will go through the vids myself. I will place the individuals who have chosen to disregard my direct orders on report. I will make a notation in their records reflecting their disregard for regulations and ship safety. Understood?" There was silence in the room. Ziem thought that he probably would not need to repeat that, at least not for several weeks.

"Okay." The chief continued, making a tick on his PADD as he went through his list. "We have a rugby game Thursday. We are playing The Commendable this week." Here Giotto paused and stared intently at the silent force. The screen changed, and showed a copy of the play schedule for the rugby league. Someone had altered it, drawing a line through the team name "The Commendable" and writing in "The Arrogant Pricks." Derisive Laughter ran through the group. Someone threw a wadded napkin at the screen.

"Yes people." continued the chief. "We are playing a team made up entirely of command track ensigns and lieutenants." There was a pause as his eyes swept over the assembly. "I hope," he said, his voice lower and very serious, "that I do not need to tell you how very much I wish to see us vanquish this particular team. I would like to see the win be significant, with high scores and maybe some injuries. Nothing fatal, disfiguring will be fine." There were a few chuckles in the crowd. The chief continued, "Those of you not playing should consider coming to cheer on the team. If we win, and again, we better win, I will buy the first round. If you are playing, and are unable to moderate your celebration, prearrange your own shift coverage. I am not the team nanny."

There were muffled cheers. Giotto waited for them to quiet again, and then said, "Let's move on to assignments." The screen altered again and showed the duty roster.

"Nothing significant today, big doings tomorrow, and I want to talk about it. We are currently in orbit around Phadru. It's a standard issue class M planet with all the usual markers. The development tends to have been in cities located on the largest continent. We are going to the third and smallest continent, not as much development there. There are lots of mines though. So some miners and there are also some indigenous beings living fairly nomadic lives on large plots of family held lands. Apparently Phadru has lots of some element the Federation wants. The Phadruan government wants the element smelted planet side. In the interest of speedy refining, the Federation agreed. Our presence is allegedly welcome, so tomorrow we will be sending down a team to perform a geological survey on a small section of the continent.

"It all sounds fine. It all sounds not complicated. There is already development, with established mines in the general area. The Phadruan government says the local folks are pleased as punch to have a giant factory dropped right the middle of their lands, eager to make some money, and thrilled to be able to participate in this project. This sounds great." Giotto paused, his eyes tightened and he continued, "It sounds great, but the last time I described this situation we were in orbit above Tormos."

Giotto paused to look around the silent room, and then went on, "I know you all remember that the Enterprise also dropped a geological survey group at Tormos. And while they were there, a group of disgruntled local activists, beings whose own government had assured us were thrilled to participate in the development of their ancestral grounds, slaughtered the geologists and the security guard I sent to protect them. Lieutenant Michael Morris was a brave, honorable young man and a valued member of this team."

Giotto paused once more. When he began to speak, his voice was softer. "I will never again accept on face value reports that estimate risk factors as low in unknown environments." His voice returned to its usual gruff timbre. "Consequently, tomorrow's geological expedition will be very secure. Let's go over it."

Ziem remembered Lieutenant Morris. He had been a soft spoken man, but had seemed competent. She had heard the expedition had been overrun by sheer numbers, that even his phaser could not protect the scientists from the hordes of armed locals. She always appreciated when Lieutenant Commander Giotto referred to deceased team members during these talks. It made her feel like they weren't forgotten. And she thought it reminded some of the less careful members of the team to think about their responsibilities. Abruptly she remembered listening was one of her responsibilities and she decided to focus on what the chief was saying.

"..And so Mr. Spock will be actually in charge of the survey, but the captain will be the ranking officer." The commander's lips tightened as he spoke. Not for the first time, Ziem wondered if he approved of both the captain and first officer joining an away team. It happened regularly on the Enterprise, and did not seem odd to her, but Mr. Giotto never seemed to like the idea.

"There will be a communications officer, someone from medical and one geologist, a Lieutenant Wilson. He will be organizing the research. The rest of the geologists will be on board, and busy analyzing the information as it is sent up. Since Tormos we don't have enough geologists to do the work on the ground and in the sky; which is a problem. Mr. Spock has decided the best option is to bring with us three gold shirts with science backgrounds to do the scut work. Since the actual labor will mostly consist of walking around, pushing buttons on tricorders, and not getting lost, I am hopeful that they will be able to handle it. One of them has some engineering experience and he will be the operations man. If the tricorders break I guess."

Mr. Giotto's tone was a little snide, but then he grew serious again. "I plan to take a four being division to provide security for the survey team."

The board behind him changed again to show the next day's work assignment. Ziem was pleased to see her own name on the task force. The lieutenant commander provided confirmation, saying, "I will head up the team. Rudolf, Hendorff, Sabide, you are up. I want to make it clear. You are working for and answering to me. We are providing security to a survey team. We will not be assisting in any other task. You will not be gathering data, setting up campsites, cleaning, cooking, or in any way making this experience easier for the survey team; in particular you will not be available to meet the needs of any command track lieutenants. Do you all understand? Good. Okay, supply lists and other prep materials should be on your PADDs. You three are dismissed to start preparing. The rest of you, let's discuss the gamma shift schedule again. It seems like last week's discussion did not really solve the problems we have been having with night time hallway supervision."

Ziem tried to leave unobtrusively. She was not able to do so, because she had forgotten that with the chairs around her all still occupied, there was not nearly enough room for her to slink out quietly. Everyone along the whole line had to move. Most of her coworkers pushed back helpfully. But one young man refused to budge. Instead he grinned up at her, pretending not to know what she needed.

Someone whispered loudly, "shove him out of the way Ziemmie, it would be easy for you!" in an encouraging voice. But Ziem was not a pusher. She saved actual force for work emergencies. She tried to glare threateningly at the man blocking her way. He didn't back down, just continued to grin mockingly up at her.

Ziem was considering her options when the chief barked, "Morgan. You are in Lieutenant Sabide's way and you are both disturbing my presentation."

"Sorry sir," Ziem and Morgan said at the same time. The young man scooted his chair back toward the wall as far as it would go. Ziem slipped past without looking at him. She kept her head down, and pushed through the doors of the assembly hall to the quiet of the general offices. As soon as she was alone, she leaned against the bulkhead for a few seconds and willed herself to stop blushing.

 _I love working here_ , she thought. _It is the best division in Starfleet. But I hate being the biggest member of security_.

Chapter Two

Meeting the Crew, Early the First Day

The next morning Ziem followed Randy Rudolph and Geoff Hendorff into the transporter room. She knew them both a little; more by reputation than because she had spent much social time with them. Hendorff was an academy grad, a lieutenant. He was experienced, and had been on the ship from the first and served during the Nero incident. Rudolph was an enlisted man. They were both humans, and from Earth. They were both popular in the division. Rudolph was considered crass, and a little lazy, but fun to be with and willing in a fight. Hendorff was very well liked; he was thought of as hard working and friendly, and even among the other security officers, he was considered brave.

The chief was already in the transporter room, supervising the transfer of the sleds they had packed yesterday. All the materials for the entire survey group, the weapons, the food, and many of the tools were sealed below tarp like covers on the antigravity sleds.

The sleds were packed by supply, from lists created by each division, but security was responsible for signing off on equipment, and once they reached the planet, for its safekeeping. Ziem had overseen the packing with Mr. Hendorff. She had had always enjoyed the time she had spent with him on missions. She had found him to be a cheerful man, and he was today too; very excited about the mission, which he seemed to consider would be basically a camping trip. He was older by several years, but he seemed young to Ziem. It might have been because he had asked her to call him by his first name, which she thought was a little unprofessional. Perhaps it was because, although by human standards a large man, he was almost a dozen centimeters shorter than Ziem, and probably 15 kilos lighter. He was the size of her youngest brother, home on Bahz.

Shortly after security arrived, the nurse for the trip joined them. She spoke quietly to the chief, probably, Ziem thought, checking to see that her requested supplies had been packed. Her list had seemed long and, for such a short mission, far too detailed to Ziem. Perhaps, like the chief, she was determined to be prepared for any emergency. She was Venzi, and had their typical round eyes and fur like hair covering her head and neck. She wore hers short, and had the blue sciences tunic all the medical personnel wore. Like Ziem, she wore it with trousers rather than the dresses favored by so many female staff members. She looked Ziem thought, like a businesslike owl.

The door whooshed open and a dark skinned young woman in the red dress of the operations department entered the room. She was the alpha shift communications officer, Ziem had seen her on the ship before, but never been on a mission with her. Her name was Uhura. She was very small and slight, would have reached just above Ziem's waist if they had stood next to each other. But she looked strong, and her expression was confident. She did not look, Ziem thought, like she needed much protection.

Ziem heard loud voices as the doors opened again and a crowd of gold entered. The work crew of command track officers had arrived. They stopped their chatter when they saw the chief. Ziem thought they were all probably human, because most of the crew was human, and because they had the look. Ziem studied them; she thought she might have a hard time telling the two men apart. They both had dark hair and blue eyes, and were tall for their species, although much smaller than Ziem, small enough that she needed to tilt her head to see their features. In their gold shirts, and with their matching smirks, she found them very similar.

One of the young men stared back at Ziem. "Hey," he said. 'Security sent the big, big guns for this trip." His companion laughed. Ziem felt her neck redden uncomfortably.

The first man glanced behind himself and continued, "You're probably feeling pretty inadequate right about now, huh Chekov?"

Ziem realized there was another man behind the two officers, he slipped between them and Ziem heard him say, "Inadequate? I haven't even done anything wrong yet."

"Hey, good one Pav." laughed the taller of the officers.

"But we all know that eventually you will." replied the other laconically.

Maybe, Ziem thought, they are not all human. The third male was so frail looking, if it was a human it would have to be quite a young one. And his standard was oddly accented.

The smaller being, whose uniform made him an ensign, slipped past his laughing companions, and smiling happily, greeted her companion.

"Hello Mr. Hendorff, this will be fun, right?"

"Yeah, it'll be lots of fun. Where were you? You barely got here in time and you're usually the first one anywhere." Hendorff said.

"I was with my girlfriend and didn't watch the time." said the ensign with a grin.

"Chekov" said the smaller of the two lieutenants, "for like the two hundredth time, those dolls in the gym are called practice dummies and you shouldn't refer to them as your girlfriend in front of other people."

The ensign sighed and looked skyward, but only said, "Thank you sir, she assured me she would miss me sir." Both the lieutenants laughed and walked a little further away.

"Just too bad they get to come too huh?" said Geoff, nodding in the direction of the other lieutenants.

"It would take more than Lapinski and Martin to bother me today." The young man smiled at Ziem. Ziem thought maybe he was waiting for an introduction, but Hendorff didn't seem to notice and she wasn't sure, so she said nothing. The young man waited a few seconds and then murmured a good bye before he slipped away, to stand by the communications officer, who returned his smile in a familiar way.

"Who was that?" Ziem asked Hendorff.

"That is Pav, um, Ensign Chekov. I got to remember we use titles when we are on duty. That is not going to be easy; I usually call him by his first name. Anyway, yeah, he's a good guy. He's my wall ball partner."

"He's your what?" Ziem asked.

"My wall ball partner, we have a team. We are really good." Hendorff looked expectantly at Ziem, who could not imagine what he was talking about. "You know, wall ball? It's a game. There's a soft little ball with an antigrav unit in, it, and you have to keep it from escaping up to the ceiling. You can bounce it against the wall or the roof if you do it hard enough, or even the floor, it doesn't matter, but the opposite team has to return it or they lose the point. You truthfully don't know about this game?" When Ziem didn't respond the Hendorff stared at her with disbelief. Finally he said, "It is very popular Ziem. Everyone plays it."

"And you and the ensign are a team?" Ziem tried to picture the waif like ensign and the strapping Hendorff coordinating at anything.

"Yeah, we are great. We have a strategy. See, he's fast, and really accurate. And he's intense! He doesn't mind throwing himself into walls or whatever to get the ball. He like can't stand to miss, and he never quits. But, well, you can see he's a little dude. He isn't that strong, so his balls are not that hard to return. I'm lots slower, but I am way stronger. So what we do is, Pav returns the ball like ninety percent of the time, but every now and then he sets me up with like a perfect ball and I smack it so hard no one can catch it. Truthfully, nobody can return a ball I really hit. It sounds like I am bragging, but it's just the truth."

Hendorff continued, "Anyways, there's a kind of informal tournament going on and me and Pav beat Lapinski and Martin a couple of days ago. It was great too, cause they were trash talking us. They completely thought they would beat us." Hendorff smiled happily and added, "I knew we would win though. We always win, we are that good."

He looked at Ziem like he was seeing her for the first time, and then said, "You should come watch a game Ziem. It's fun. You know what? You should play! You would be good at it I bet, you are really strong."

Zicem tried to imagine jumping after a little ball in a room full of strangers. She had loved all sports on Bahz. When she first arrived at the academy she had played quite a few. She had particularly enjoyed basketball. The game had seemed ridiculously easy to her, the first few times she had played in the lighter gravity of Earth. But in one game she had fallen awkwardly after a jump shot and heard other cadets laugh. She hadn't felt it was funny. At dinner that night she had heard one of them telling a group of students about it. He had said her fall had made the whole gym shake. She remembered all the little tiny girls at his table laughing, covering their mouths and looking at her with amazement. It bothered her to think that the other students watched her when she played and laughed about her size. After that she had participated in all the required activities, but had not played games for fun.

Ziem's failure to respond to seemed to disappoint Hendorff. His voice, when he spoke again, was much more subdued. "Well anyways, he's a good guy. He's quiet, but he says really funny things sometimes under his breath. And he's pretty much nice to everybody. You'll like him Ziem."

The chief prevented Ziem from needing to reply by saying, "The captain is waiting to speak to us, and then we will get this show started."

There was a small conference room located by the main transporter room. It was usual for teams to gather prior to away missions. At Giotto's words, officers and enlisted began to make their way that direction. The two dark haired lieutenants bolted ahead. When Ziem entered the conference room she saw that they had grabbed chairs and been seated. They clearly had experience with away team meetings then, because as Ziem too knew, there were never enough seats in these rooms. Officers, according to protocol, would be seated according to rank. As a courtesy to him, the captain's yeoman would have a chair by him, but Rudolph, as an enlisted man, would be standing. So would the ensign, and the plethora of lieutenants probably meant some of them might need to be standing too. Ziem looked at the slim little chairs around the table and immediately decided to join Rudolph, Hendorff, and his wall ball partner in leaning against the bulkhead. Everyone else sat down, turned on PADDs, and directed their attention to the head of the table, where was seated, the captain.

Chapter Three

Meeting Room on the Enterprise, Still the First Day

"Welcome Away Team!" As the captain launched into a fairly standard introduction to a planetary visit, Ziem's thoughts wandered. She hadn't been on the Enterprise for the battle with Nero, but she knew all about it. Everyone did. The captain was a hero. When she had first arrived on the ship she had been a little star struck. The Enterprise was one of the larger starships, but the living space was not big. It was impossible to not see the captain eat, and work out, and chat with the senior officers. She had never actually had a conversation with him, but Ziem didn't feel awestruck now when he walked into the mess, or if they were in the gym at the same time. And yet, she still found him to be charismatic in a way she had never known anyone else to be.

"Now I know that you have all had departmental briefings on our missions," the captain said with a nod to Giotto. "And I am sure you have all read your packets, so well and thoroughly prepared by Mr. Spock." This was said with a glance at the yellow shirted crew members, who shifted slightly in their chairs and failed to meet the captain's gaze. "But to ensure that we are all on the same page for this mission, Lieutenant Wilson will remind us of our goals and then each department will have a chance to remind us of our responsibilities. Finally, Mr. Spock will speak very briefly on the specifics of his plan." The captain turned to the commander and speaking slowly, and with emphasis, repeated, "Briefly, very briefly."

Mr. Spock did not acknowledge the captain, but sat impassively in his chair. The captain sighed and turned to the man seated to his left. "Lieutenant, are you ready?" he asked.

The geologist, Lieutenant Wilson, stood and began to speak in a nervous, weedy voice. He talked a long time, about the minerals, and Phadruan government plans for developing the area they were to study. Basically the area to be developed was the historically poorest part of an extremely wealthy planet. Phadru was unusual in that it had not developed much technology. It had been an enthusiastic trading partner for everyone that stopped in for almost a thousand years. The planet had never developed space flight; it had been given to them long before there was a Federation. More accurately, the technology had been stolen. Taking what you wanted was a cultural norm on Phadru. The wealth the planet had amassed was unimaginable. Lt. Wilson said most people on the planet lived pretty traditional lives in large family groups. Their focus was on fulfilling social responsibilities. They were able to pay others to do almost everything for them. Most citizens of Phadru could not even turn on their own personal computers, they had servants do it. He finished by asking for questions.

There were no questions. Next Chief Giotto outlined the security precautions to the group. Most of his talk was also pretty standard, he did stress that no member of the party was to go anywhere without a security escort. When he finished, an officer from engineering, who wasn't going to accompany them on the mission, described the equipment they would be using. Then Lieutenant Sascheja, the nurse that would be responsible for providing medical care for the mission, reminded everyone that they were required to have a hypo to prevent sunburn, and that their need for hydration would be high while in the field. She said more, but it was not interesting and her tone was so unpleasant that Ziem had trouble listening to her.

Finally, Mr. Spock spoke, not at all briefly, about organizational details for the work parties. He stressed that the crew's mission was to confirm information that had already been gathered. That didn't seem like the best use of time to Ziem. Almost as if he read her thoughts Mr. Spock said that the previous studies had been to check feasibility of development. The focus of theirs would be to provide a record for reclamation. At that point Rudolph yawned noisily. Ziem was horrified, and Mr. Giotto turned angrily in his chair trying to see who it had been. Mr. Spock did not seem to notice and asked for questions. The captain, who had been swiveling back and forth in his chair for some time, seemed to feel it was his cue to smile and announce that they were finished. He asked the entire group to report to the transporters.


	2. Chapter 4-7

Chapter Four  
Phadru, Afternoon, the First Day

As always, Ziem found the transporter disorienting. As her molecules coalesced, and the yellow swirls faded from her vision, she concentrated on standing still and willed her stomach to stop churning. After a few deep breaths, when she felt confident she could stay upright, she began to look around. Phadru was not what she had imagined. When the beam down area had been described as a meadow, Ziem had imagined green grass surrounded by towering trees. Phadru's meadows were brown. The sparse grass was tufts of beige straw. The trees were really more like tall shrubs, with discouraged looking, withered leaves hanging in clumps on their stunted branches. Ziem's feet sank into the sandy brown soil. The air was warm, and very dry. The high, thin clouds did nothing to break the bright sun.

"The camp is supposed to be over by those hills," said the captain. He led the way, and the little troop followed obediently. Mr. Giotto motioned to his team to travel in formation, on the edges of the away team. The antigrav sleds bobbed behind, bringing up the rear.

They hiked to a camp that had been established by previous survey groups. The area was flat and somewhat sheltered by some of the depressed little trees. A creek or small river could be heard close by, although the area leading to it was as brown and dry as the rest of their surroundings. There were a couple fire holes, with rocks around them for seating. It was not lovely, but it was functional. Ziem bent and began to unfasten the tarp covering one of the sleds. She grabbed a tent pack and began to walk toward one of the smoother spots.

"Lieutenant Sabide." Ziem turned to acknowledge her commander. "Our team members will be providing security only on this mission." The gold shirted lieutenants looked at each other and smirked. Uncertain what to do, Ziem stood awkwardly, holding the tent pack, and wondered if she should drop it or return it to the sled. The small ensign popped up beside her, smiling enthusiastically and holding out his arms. She handed him the pack and he carried it to a smooth swell left of the pit.

"Here?" he asked.

"That looks good enough to me," said the captain. He did not seem to be disturbed by Mr. Giotto's comments.

The ensign dropped the pack. "Now what do I do?" he asked. "I have never set one of these up before." He looked at the whole group; with such a disarming smile that Ziem had to remind herself of her orders to keep from opening the kit herself. She thought Hendorff was similarly conflicted, but she needn't have worried. The captain jumped up next to the ensign.

"This is easy. Watch. You're supposed to break this little seal here, slowly, and the tent just gradually unfolds" the captain showed the ensign the tag on the kit, but didn't break it. "You can do it with your fingers. You're supposed to tear it, and the tent just kind of aligns itself. But let me show you something awesome. Watch what happens if you punch it really hard." The captain did as he described, shattering the little tag. The tent unfolded immediately, exploding out with a loud crack. The captain jumped out of the way gracefully, but it surprised the ensign. He stumbled back with a startled yelp.

The tent, fully formed, wobbled between the two men. The captain ran around it, calling, "Chekov, are you alright? I should have warned you."

The ensign laughed, "It didn't hurt. I was just surprised." He grinned up at his commanding officer. "I want to do that."

The captain laughed too. "First help me push the supports down. Just step on them. Like this. No harder. Okay. Let's go get the other tents. You can try on those."

One of the lieutenants offered to take over, but Kirk said, "We got this, right Chekov?" The younger man nodded happily. The captain continued, "Why don't you go locate the heads Lapinski, assess them, make sure they are in working order and report back." Lapinski's acknowledgement was barely audible. He did not look pleased as he walked past Ziem. Giotto motioned Hendorff to follow him. The other lieutenant, Martin, was not able to entirely suppress a laugh. Mr. Giotto glared at him.

The captain said, "Martin, take a tent and go help Lieutenant Sascheja set up a supply area."

"Go with them Rudolph," Giotto barked.

"Yes sir," Martin said respectfully. He was still giggling as he and the nurse led the sleds toward a long table at the front of the camp. Ten steps out and he and Rudolph both lost control, and began to laugh loudly.

Giotto yelled, "Shut up Rudolph!"

"Yes sir," Rudolph called without looking back.

The captain smiled and bent to pick up another tent pack. "Come on Chekov," he said. Ziem felt awkward doing nothing. She checked to see what the chief was doing. She tried to copy his alert stance and watched the tents go up. It was enjoyable watching the two men work. They were very cheerful, the ensign chattered and the captain listened contentedly, sometimes laughing at the younger man's comments. By his third attempt the ensign was able to pop open a tent, and it so surprised the captain that he stumbled, and landed on the ground.

"Chekov!" barked the chief.

"I am sorry sir!" gasped the ensign as he dashed around the tent to help his commanding officer to his feet. He wasn't laughing now and actually looked a little afraid.

"I am so sorry; I didn't say anything because I didn't expect it to work." The ensign said, pulling the captain up. Giotto glowered at him. "I am sorry," Chekov said again.

The captain laughed and said, "Don't worry about it. I'm not hurt, and anyway, I kind of deserved it, for assuming you wouldn't figure out how to do my trick."

The ensign looked very relieved. "Do you want me to finish by myself?" he asked.

"No!" laughed the captain. "You get one and I will get another. And we will race to see who can get one up fastest, stakes and everything. Are you ready? Go." The officers ran for the sleds.

Giotto watched the race with a disapproving expression. Ziem knew he would never have been as congenial in similar circumstances. The chief was a great fan of what he called the chain of command. He had never said anything, but in was not the first time she had the impression he believed the junior officers were too comfortable with the captain.

The rest of the camp was set up quickly. The makeshift medical area was readied. The supply tent had food and water storage areas established. Personal kits were slipped into the tents, and then it was time to begin working.

Mr. Spock divided the group into four work parties. He sent each of their tricorders a map with their area of responsibility for the survey. He was preparing to dismiss the group to their work when the smaller of the twin lieutenants, Lapinski, Ziem thought, asked if it wouldn't be easier to start from the camp and work outwards. Ziem heard Commander Giotto tut his frustration over the younger man questioning the commanding officer's plan.

Mr. Spock's expression did not change, but Ziem felt his tone was a little drier. "Lieutenant, we have very specific responsibilities in this survey. Federation law dictates the completion of both a visual and mechanical inventory of an area immediately prior to development so that reclamation can be affected at the earliest possible opportunity. The four day schedule I have outlined will assure that the work be completed in the most expedient manner. Our team may then return to the Enterprise and the data collected can be analyzed, stored and sent to the appropriate agencies. Construction of the processing center cannot commence until our responsibilities are fulfilled."

"In other words," said the captain. "You will do as the first officer has requested, and you will do it in the manner he described." Ziem had never before heard their young captain sound so firm. Clearly he too thought it inappropriate to question orders. She looked over at Giotto, he looked very pleased.

Chapter 5  
In the Field, the First Day

Ziem was responsible for providing security for the team made up of the ensign and the communications officer. The three of them walked the nearly 5 kilometers to the boundary of their assignment. As they walked, the lieutenant began to ask Ziem about Bahz. She asked very specific questions about the culture, which Ziemhad to think to answer. She enjoyed it, even forgetting briefly how awkward she felt bending over to see the face of the petite woman next to her. The ensign didn't join in, but walked behind the two women listening until he left them to assume his assigned position. The lieutenant continued to talk to Ziem.

"If we were on Bahz would it be as hot we are here?" the lieutenant asked.

"No not at all." Ziem replied. "It is much cooler where I lived, and still quite forested, so the areas outside of town are even cooler still." Ziem smiled, thinking of the towering conifers of her home world.

"I would love to see that." said Lieutenant Uhura dreamily. "I have always wanted to see the forests on a high gravity world."

Ziem felt embarrassed. She had not said anything about it, and the other woman had not asked, but of course it was obvious she was from a high gravity planet. Nothing else would explain her massive legs, her height, and thick torso. It was inevitable the beautiful little communications officer would notice her bulk immediately.

"Yes, the trees are magnificent." Ziem said a little sadly.

The lieutenant seemed to realize she had said something that made Ziem uncomfortable, and changed the subject. She asked about the languages spoken on Bahz. Ziem explained that the planet had been a federation member so long that most people spoke Standard as their first language. The lieutenant seemed to find that astounding. She asked several more questions and then thought for a while. Finally she said, "Most worlds fight to hold on to their languages. It is considered essential to maintaining a cultural identity. I find it interesting that yours has made almost the opposite decision."

Ziem smiled and said, "I actually thought about that when I was taking the required cultural appreciation classes at the academy. I remember being assigned to write a guide to my own culture of origin."

"I remember that too." said the lieutenant.

"Mine was titled "Welcome to Bahz, Where We Don't Make a Fuss". My take on my home world was that I came from a society that valued doing things in the least attention demanding way possible. We have only one language for the entire planet, and we picked the one that would make it easiest for the rest of the universe to understand us without having to try very hard. We didn't have a referendum or anything; most people in my grandparents' generation knew a home language and Standard. They just sort of didn't get around to using the home one enough to pass it on. My parents hardly know any of our local dialect, and my siblings and I know none at all. It's the same in our government and work. I know I am a good example of a citizen. I always try to do things by the book, in an unremarkable way."

"I don't know that you should describe yourself as unremarkable." The lieutenant looked a little shocked.

Ziem wasn't surprised at the other woman's response. Lieutenant Uhura was very young to be chief communications officer. She had to be exceptionally capable. Being brilliant, and beautiful, she probably had never had the experience of a total stranger stopping to stare up at her, eyes wide with astonishment. She couldn't appreciate there could be comfort in going unnoticed. Ziem knew from experience that it was seldom useful to explain to a beautiful person how lucky they were. They couldn't understand. She decided to go with her standard explanation.

"Well," she said, "Maybe what I should have said was, act in a way that will go unremarked upon. Is that better? I like everything to go smoothly. I come from a culture that places value on trying to work together well. We try to fit in, be cohesive." Ziem was surprised at how much she was talking to the lieutenant, a virtual stranger. She was usually fairly reserved. She knew communication officers interpreted, but hadn't realized how much they knew about drawing people into communication too.

"But you went into security, which requires a lot of independence and forcefulness," said Uhura.

"Independence yes, but always within the confines of a team. I think we work together more closely than the other divisions. I am very comfortable with that. And I can't imagine myself wanting more attention. Plus I was heavily recruited. I mean, obviously the physicality of the job is easy for me." Ziem started to feel uncomfortable; she hated referring even indirectly to her size. Being upfront about something that embarrassed her was not appealing, but pretending she was average was ridiculous.

The lieutenant thought quietly to herself for a minute. Then she said, in a tone that implied that she wasn't certain she should speak, "There are teams in all the divisions. You could be a valued member of a smoothly operating research team."

Ziem took some time before she answered. It was common to make assumptions about individuals based on their work assignments. The security division had enjoyed the chief's talk about the upcoming rugby match because it was against the command track team and many people half believed that all the command track officers were hyper competitive, grandstanding, braggers. It wasn't really true of all of them, it might not even be true of most of them, but it was an assumption people made. She knew many of the ship's crew had some prejudices about security. People tended to believe everyone in the division was brave, and athletic, but not smart or sensitive.

She was a little surprised that the lieutenant, who was clearly intelligent, seemed to have so little appreciation for the skill required to be an officer in the security department. She wondered what she could say to explain how noble she felt it was to be in the front line. She didn't want to talk about honor, or responsibility, because she didn't really know Lieutenant Uhura, and she felt like they were private ideals. But she didn't know many other females on the ship, and she had enjoyed speaking with the lieutenant. She wanted to try and give her a chance to understand.

Ziem said slowly, "Our chief says we should strive to be such a tight team that outsiders can't tell where one of us begins and the next leaves off. I don't think research teams have that kind of unity, of fellowship really. I guess for most people it is...weird to see beauty in a well-executed plan, but I do. I like being part of a bigger whole. In security we are all always working together toward one goal. If we are competent, people forget how important we are. I like that, being in the background, but being essential."

Lieutenant Uhura smiled, "You explain yourself really well. I never thought of it that way before, but I understand what you mean. Thank you." She paused, and then added thoughtfully, "It's good to be reminded that there are lots of ways to be wery happy."

"What?" asked Ziem.

The lieutenant giggled a little guiltily and explained, "The navigator on alpha shift, that's him over there actually, Chekov." She gestured toward their other team member. "He didn't learn Standard until he was a teenager, and it's definitely not one of his gifts. Anyway, he slaughters the pronunciation, and he confuses v and w all the time. And he's happy a lot. So he often says things make him wery happy. The yeomen think it's cute and they try to get him to say it whenever they can. The helmsman and I have heard it so many times we both found it slipping into our own speech patterns. Now whenever we feel really good about something we both say we're wery happy."

"Doesn't it bother him?" Ziem knew it would mortify her.

"I don't think so. He's never said anything if it does. Like I said, he's naturally pretty happy." The lieutenant looked over at the ensign. He wasn't close enough to talk to, but they could see him. He didn't look like any of the other workers; he wasn't standing with his tricorder before him, but seemed to be sitting on the ground. Ziem took a bifocal visor from her pack and looked more closely, adjusting the magnification as she did so.

"What is he doing? Is he all right?" The lieutenant sounded concerned.

"I think he's just sitting down while the tricorder scans. It's on the ground right next to him and it is running; I can see the lights on the monitor. He also has his PADD out. He's got it on his lap and it looks like he's doing something on it." Ziem looked at the lieutenant and continued, "Maybe he's analyzing some anomaly or something and doesn't want to slow down the tricorder by running two programs at once."

"Yeah, maybe," said Uhura, "and maybe you should walk over there and tell him that if I find out he is playing video games while on duty I am going to make him wery unhappy."

"Yes ma'am," said Ziem. "I will, because after all, it is my duty to keep all the team members safe."

Chapter 6  
Evening, the First Day

The work crews returned to the base camp at the agreed upon time of 18:00. As each group entered the camp they reported to Mr. Spock and took turns downloading the information they had gathered into the central computer that they all had somehow begun to refer to as "the map". As they did so the analyzed sections lit up, showing the portions of the area where the work was completed. Ziem was disheartened to see how small the glowing area looked. The hours spent wandering through the dusty, dull land seemed to have accomplished very little.

She looked around and saw Hendorff crouched low in one of the pits, trying to start a fire. She walked over to join him.

"How did it go today?" She asked.

"Fine, nothing exciting, those two lieutenants are really funny. They didn't talk much to me, but they had their communicators out most of the time and I liked listening to them talk to each other." He looked up from the pile of grass and twigs he was fiddling with. Several of the younger crew members had come over to join them; he smiled a greeting and then continued, "How was it for you?"

Ziem watched Hendorff ineffectually thumb the starter and tried to control the desire to snatch the tool out of his hands. Instead she replied, "The same. Ensign Chekov was messing with his PADD, and the lieutenant thought he was playing video games, and for a few minutes that seemed like it might get exciting. But it turns out he was checking on some plant that wasn't on the original survey." Geoff made a few more attempts to start the fire and then began to rearrange the kindling, as if it was the problem. Having most of the team watch him fail repeatedly didn't seem to bother him. Ziem knew she would have felt very uncomfortable.

Hendorff looked up at her and asked, "Did you have a chance to look at that master map? It doesn't look like we accomplished much. I don't see how we can be done in four days."

"I know, Hardly any of it is lit up! This is boring, and it is going to take forever. At this rate we will be at it for a week at least." Lieutenant Lapinski sounded perturbed.

The communications officer replied calmly, "Mr. Spock said four more days. It will be four more days."

Lapinski said, "Spock just says things in that I-know-it-all-don't-question-me way of his and everyone automatically believes him. But I think he just picked a completely arbitrary number. The map doesn't look like we are a fourth way done at all. He maybe hopes it will be four days, but he doesn't know it." Ziem thought Lapinski sounded like he had moved past perturbed to peevish.

The small ensign was crouching on the ground watching Geoff. He furrowed his brow while Lapinski was speaking, then he said in a quiet, thoughtful voice, "We should be back to the ship before dinner in four days."

"Shut up. You are not part of this conversation." Lapinski enunciated very carefully, but did not even turn to acknowledge the younger man while he spoke.

The ensign glanced up, then quickly away, a little nervously. Ziem thought Mr. Lapinski was being very rude, considering he had himself actually interrupted her conversation with Geoff.

"Lieutenant Lapinski, Commander Spock would never arbitrarily declare anything. He has determined carefully how long this task will take and it is four more days." Lieutenant Uhura emphasized the senior officer's title a little as she spoke. Ziem liked the way she did it, and the ensign seemed to agree, he smiled at Lieutenant Uhura.

Lapinski must have noticed too, because he walked over to the ensign saying, "I know you think every word that hybrid robot says is inspired, and that you wish you were him, but he has no idea how real people work. He just assumes he can draw whatever conclusion he wants and we will all hop to and make everything turn out how he says it will."

The ensign glanced over at the communications officer before saying very quietly, "It would require 320 hours for a single worker to complete this assignment. With eight workers in the field, the work will take 40 hours."

"Anything could happen. You have no way of knowing that." Lapinski sounded contemptuous when talking to the ensign, who finally stood, and looked up at the larger man, gazing steadily at him before replying. When he did speak, his tone was carefully respectful, like he was reporting to a senior officer. Which in fact, Ziem reflected, he was.

"Lieutenant, there are several ways I could know that. I told you one; another is to say our work is to document the environment that will be lost by the construction of the factory. The grids on the map represent that: 11,640,300 meters square, the area of a rectangle 4,830 meters by 2,410 meters which is the footprint of the complex they plan to build here. The grids are misleading because the map reflects topography, and so represent the actual over ground distance we will travel. So, that rectangle was divided into four rectangles representing areas of 4,830 meters by 600 meters but not equal size on the map. Each of our groups was assigned one of the smaller rectangles to analyze. We worked six hours today. Lieutenant Uhura and I managed to record the analysis of an area 726 meters long and 600 meters wide. That means we walked about 121 meters every hour. From what I saw of the data being entered by Mr. Spock, that was average for the crews. And that makes sense. The tricorders are doing the actual work, and they all work at the same speed, barring malfunction. But if we assume each crew of two workers, each walking 150 meters off the median of a rectangle 726 meters by 300 meters, with the tricorders adjusted to analyze that width constantly and analyzing a length of, closely approximate to 121 meters every hour, it will require 40 hours for each group to complete their assignment. That would be 6 hours today, 10 each of the next three days and 4 hours on the fourth day. When we complete the assignment we will have to break camp, so around 6 hours after we start work four days from now we should be ready to beam back to the ship."

Lapinski said nothing, just rolled his eyes, but Martin said, "Really? That big? Wow. How many football fields is that?"

"Football fields?" asked the ensign.

"Yes Boy Genius." said Lapinski, "that is what normal people call the places where they play what we call games."

The ensign crossed his arms across his chest and said, "Thank you, lieutenant, but during the time I spent in San Francisco I was able to listen to normal people discuss the glories of sports with great frequency. The assigned rectangles are 4,830 meters long. An American football field is 109.1 meters long, so at its longest point the plot is a little longer than 44 football fields... Or 46 European football pitches...Or as I prefer to think of it, 79 hockey rinks." McCallister gave a snort of laughter, the ensign smiled disarmingly up at Lapinski, who leaned closer to him, and raising a finger thumped the smaller man on the chest.

"You are an arrogant little prick." hissed Lieutenant Lapinski, who then pivoted on his heel, and stomped off to the other pit, where the more senior officers had successfully started a fire and were looking over the food that had been stored earlier that day.

"Yes sir." said the ensign. He dropped his head and continued very softly. "So you've mentioned before, sir."

The yeoman, Tremaine laughed and said, "That is amazing Pav! You think of the weirdest things! How do you keep all those numbers straight in your head?"

The ensign didn't look up, but simply shrugged. Ziem couldn't read his expression. The young woman laughed again, then wrinkling her nose, turned to Martin and asked, "You want to go eat?" He nodded and the two of them walked away, following Lapinski toward the supplies. When they were gone, the ensign turned to the communication officer, and threw his hands out, as if he were questioning her.

"Don't look at me for support," she laughed, "I think you provoked him on purpose."

The ensign cocked his head and looked at her with a mischievous expression. "Maybe you are right." he said. "Really there are much simpler to know how many hours it will require to cover the field. But the method I used has many numbers and sounds hard."

"I knew it! I knew you were just tormenting him!" laughed Uhura.

Chekov said, "No, maybe, tease a little bit."

"Did you notice when you finished he could not say anything?" asked Geoff. The ensign nodded.

Geoff laughed. "I did too, and I enjoyed it." he said.

"You better be careful, he outranks you, and someday he is going to be in charge of some mission you are on." Uhura said, shaking her head as she knelt down to assist with the fire. Ziem envied her the graceful way she moved.

The ensign stood at the edge of the pit and looked after the lieutenants thoughtfully. Uhura glanced up at him and asked, "What are you worried about Pasha?"

"Was I rude?" he asked uncertainly. His accent was stronger than when he talked about areas and lengths.

"No, I didn't say that." she said. "Only the last part was even a little bit sarcastic, and he asked for it. Don't worry about him. You were fine. And do not go apologize!"

Hendorff finally gave up on the fire, and tossed the starter to Ziem. He gestured toward the fire pit. She felt like she looked very awkward as she knelt to try and light it. He stood up and said, "Pav, for what it's worth, I totally agree. He's the arrogant one, and he rides you constantly. I say good for you."

The ensign looked unconvinced. He frowned at the ground with his arms crossed. The communications officer looked up at him, fondly, Ziem thought. Uhura climbed up to stand closer to him. She slipped an arm around the ensign's shoulders and speaking softly said, "Hey, Pasha, so I get the math was easy, but you impressed even me by knowing the length of a football field. Were those figures real?"

For a few seconds Ziem thought the young man wouldn't answer, but eventually he said, "Yes, there are running tracks around the fields at the academy, both the soccer pitch and the football field. The dimensions are posted. I read them many times when I would train there. I know nothing about American football. Well, I know it looks like it hurts." Speaking to the lieutenant seemed to relax him, his arms dropped, and he smiled ruefully at the beautiful officer, who smiled back at him.

Geoff said with his usual enthusiasm, "Yeah it does hurt sometimes, but not usually till the morning after the game. At the time it is fun. Really fun, I have been getting into rugby lately though. More you know, like sincere action, without pads and stuff." He paused, looked at the ensign skeptically and then added, "I don't think you should try either one though Pav. You're not really built for them."

"Thanks Mr. Hendorff, I'll remember." said the ensign, who was much smaller than the other men in the group and quite thin. He sounded a little sarcastic, but he smiled at his friend and added, "I also remember how to use that starter if you want me to?"

Embarrassed, and not sure why, Ziem bent lower over the pit and went to work, saying, "I got it, why don't you go get us something to eat?"

"I can do that." said the ensign.

"And I can help." said Hendorff. The two ambled away, chatting happily. Lieutenant Uhura shifted rocks around so that there would be more seating available. When the fire finally took and started to crackle, she handed some larger pieces of wood to Ziem, who stoked it with satisfaction.

"Another 30 hours of today is not going to be very interesting." remarked Uhura.

"In security we like the work to be boring." answered Ziem, "but I have to agree. You at least got to watch the tricorders. I got to watch you watching the tricorders." Both women laughed and then Ziem asked, "Do you think Mr. Chekov could estimate how many times I am going to wish I didn't have this assignment in the next several days?"

"Oh, I am sure he could. Let's agree not to ask him, shall we?" The lieutenant laughed and took a seat upwind of the fire, well out of the smoke.

Chapter 7  
Night, Ending the First Day

Ziem drew the first watch. She set her tricorder to alert her to any movement in the area of the camp, and walked the perimeter. The sky darkened gradually, and the voices in the tents grew softer. Sitting quietly in the dark, she could feel the muscles in her back unclenching. She was not afraid of her work, but she had always found it difficult to relax in a crowd. It was silly, she told herself, to feel so observed, there was no one paying any attention to her. Nothing unpleasant had happened all day.

She ran through the evening in her mind. The crew had shared a quick, tasteless meal of rations, and then Mr. Spock had risen to return to the field. He hadn't commanded the others to join him, but he had clearly assumed they would. Giotto had asked Mr. Spock to have them all work in the area closest to camp, which was within eyesight of the security base, and had actually sent only Hendorff back into the field with them. He had then encouraged Ziem and Rudolf to get some rest. The captain had made it clear that he had a great deal of responsibilities that he needed to attend to, and that Yeoman Tremaine would need to stay at the camp and organize all the records he needed to update while planet side. Ziem had thought that the field work must be truly boring if their active captain actually preferred paperwork.

The work crew had returned at dusk, subdued, seeming very tired. Spock and Wilson had gone off to confer on their data, and everyone else had gone to the pit, where they sat and stared quietly at the fire. Eventually Hendorff had kicked Chekov, who had looked mischievous, and mumbled something about using the head. Before the chief could even remind him, Hendorff was up and offering to escort him. The two had ambled off into the dark, talking quietly. Ziem couldn't make out what they were saying, but they sounded very cheerful.

"What do you suppose those two are up to?" The captain had asked, good naturedly.

"Something stupid," Lieutenant Lapinski had replied.

The yeoman had said, "I think something fun, but probably nothing important."

"Your man wouldn't have brought liquor would he?" The chief had asked of the captain.

The captain had laughed and said, "No. He's very reliable. And he's not old enough to buy it. Would yours?"

Giotto had shaken his head dismissively.

"Maybe porn." Rudolph had guessed.

Lapinski had snorted, and said, "it is more likely some ridiculous sci fi vid that no one over 12 would be interested in."

"And maybe," Tremaine had said, "they just had to go to the bathroom? I mean, Mr. Giotto said not to go anywhere alone. It's not like they snuck off or anything." The group had sat quietly, considering for a minute, most gazing off toward where the young men had disappeared into the dark.

"Well, good point." The captain had said finally. He had turned to the crew and said, "So how much are we enjoying our mission?" They had talked over each other to complain about the work and conditions. Ziem had admired the way the captain had pulled the team together.

After about a half hour Hendorff and Chekov had returned. They hadn't offered an explanation of their absence, but had joined the group at the fire. Hendorff had walked into the middle of the circle and dropped heavily to one of the stone seats, sighing with satisfaction. Less confident, the ensign had crouched on the ground a little behind him. He too had seemed very relaxed, smiling happily as he gazed at the flames. Conversation had stopped, as everyone around the fire had turned and stared at them speculatively, even Ziem. Hendorff had been oblivious, legs stretched before him, eyes closed. But Chekov had tensed under the scrutiny, his smile faded. Abruptly he had jumped up and murmured a good night before slipping off towards his assigned tent.

Ziem had felt badly and wished she had said something friendly to the little ensign. She liked him. She thought he had handled the incident with the lieutenant perfectly. She wondered if some of the others had felt the same, because the group had broken up quickly after that. Everyone went off to their tents. She and the chief had run through his expectations for the watch, and then he too had left to rest. Mr. Spock and the geologist continued to work for another hour, and then they had gone to their tents. Ziem had been left alone.

She sat at the lowering fire, or walked the perimeter of the camp. Nothing happened. Occasionally some night animal rustled by, but she was always well warned by her tricorder before she heard them, so it wasn't alarming and she could think in peace. She had no trouble keeping awake, as she often worked gamma shift anyway, and she was a little hungry. The ration packages came in two sizes. She had eaten the larger one, but it hadn't been quite enough food. It had always been that way; she had grown used to it on other assignments. She wasn't ravenous, just not quite full. By the end of the week she would feel really hungry, but for a few days it wasn't bad. On previous missions she had considered discussing it with the chief, but she hadn't been able to think of a way to explain without having to say aloud that she was so enormous a normal amount of food couldn't fill her. She had decided to just endure it.

Her tricorder chirped quietly, alerting her that someone had left a tent and was walking toward her. Hendorff coming to relieve her she assumed. She couldn't see anyone until Geoff was nearly upon her. She was a little unnerved to realize how poor her vision had become after sitting by the fire.

"Hey Ziem, are you ready to sleep?" Hendorff's voice seemed very loud after the hours of quiet.

"Hi Geoff, sure, thanks" Ziem stood a little awkwardly. "I have nothing significant to report. Occasionally the Phadruan equivalent of a fox slinks by. Nothing else is stirring."

"Well, have a good rest. Try not to snore." Hendorff laughed at his own joke. It seemed even wakening in the middle of the night did little to dampen his enthusiasm.

Ziem started to leave but couldn't help turning back to ask, "Hey Geoff, where did you and Chekov go after the evening shift?"

Hendorff laughed again. "You are really still thinking about that? Well, while we were in the field after dinner, just as the stars were starting to come out, Mr. Spock said it was time to go back to base. Pav really wanted to do some stargazing. But Mr. Spock said no, so we had to leave. I told Pav I'd go back out with him. We decided to slink over past the head at our first chance and have a look see."

Geoff added, "Plus we both have our personal packs pretty much stuffed full of snacks which we don't want to share with Lapinski and Martin. So we just lay out on that hill behind the head and ate and looked at stars. Truthfully, I would probably have been bored, but Pav explained what we were looking at real interesting. Between that and the truck load of chocolate milk he's got stashed in his backpack, it was great."

"You brought snacks! What a good idea! I wish I would have thought of that." Ziem wondered why obvious solutions never seemed to occur to her.

"I am always starving on these trips. Those rations are ridiculously small. I ate most of Pav's and all of mine and I felt like I ate nothing. I could easily eat like, three more. Did you know Pav wants to run a raffle where people bid on how many ration packets I could eat? He says it would advance scientific knowledge and make us some money." Geoff chuckled, seemingly not at all uncomfortable discussing his own enormous appetite. "You don't bring any extra food on these trips? How do you survive? What do you put in your pack?"

"The recommended things, I have a little pillow, two changes of clothes, personal hygiene articles, rain gear, review materials on the planet, a PADD." Ziem realized as she spoke that she had never considered not packing exactly what was recommended.

Geoff said, "I've got a change of clothes and about 40 of those individual fruit and nut servings from the mess that are supposed to go in the oatmeal. I steal one every meal and save up. Also as many candy bars as I could cram in there. They get a little soft, but they taste okay. Pav's got his PADD, three spare batteries for it, and like 16 of those expensive chocolate milk things that get cold when you open them. Also a communicator, because he has these theories that your assigned one is never where you need it to be and that anyway they break so often every away team should have one to sacrifice for parts. He may have brought a change of underwear but no clothes 'cause they take up a lot of room and he doesn't care what he looks like. He brought a rain resistant blanket to use as a pillow. He checked, and it won't rain at this time of the year here, but if it did he would have to listen to everyone tell him he was stupid. His plan is to just use the blanket as a coat if he has to."

Ziem could picture the two of them stretched out on the sand, looking skyward and eating sweets. She thought it had probably been fun, certainly much more fun than anything else they had done all day. She wished she had been invited, but knew she would never have gone. Even thinking about wandering off made her anxious. She wondered if she had a duty to instruct Geoff on expected behavior for members of security while on duty. It seemed like she should, but Geoff had been working while she was still at the academy. They were of equal rank, but he had much more actual experience than she did. She decided instead to ask him more about it.

"Weren't you afraid you would get in trouble?" Ziem had always done exactly what she was instructed to do on an away team.

Hendorff looked confused, "For bringing food on a mission? No one cares. It's all sealed. Animals couldn't smell it."

"No," Ziem said, "I mean weren't you worried about leaving camp without checking with the chief?"

Geoff scoffed, "Not really. I mean it was totally by the book; Pav's an officer and I am his security escort. We were like seven meters from the head. In the daylight you could have seen us. It's just that, if we had asked to go, no one would have let us. We actually talked about how funny it is that everyone would think I am too big and stupid to know what I am doing and everyone thinks he's too young and inattentive to make reasonable decisions. I mean he's alpha shift navigator, but he can't walk to the bathroom alone? How smart is that? Besides, we didn't do anything dangerous."

She could tell by his tone that Geoff did not share her concern with the rules. She acknowledged that it they didn't seem to have caused any harm, but she still felt anxious. She really preferred things to be by the book. She didn't want chaos.

"I guess you may be right." Ziem said, but she was not convinced. She tried to make herself sound unconcerned. "Well, I should get some sleep."

"Night Ziem, it was good talking to you." Geoff started to adjust his own tricorder. As she walked towards her tent Ziem heard him call after her, "Hey, if you're hungry stop by Pav's tent. He'll give you some food. He likes you."

"Thanks Geoff, maybe tomorrow." Oddly pleased, Ziem went off to bed.


	3. Chapter 8, 9

**Here are two more chapters. Until I got so inspired on Veterans' Day, I didn't think I would ever publish this story, and last year I turned Chapter 9 into a short story which I did put up. I tried to take it out, but it is entertaining, and does move the action along, and at this point the two are pretty different. And how sad is it that even in the 23rd century competent young beings often let their fears limit them? But that is the way it is, even in Starfleet.**

Chapter 8  
Morning, the Second Day

The mission plan called for the maintenance of regular shifts. So Ziem set her PADD to wake her at six, about half an hour before she assumed anyone else would want to get up. In her evaluations Chief Giotto was always complimentary of her punctuality and organization. In reality, she did not want any of her tent mates to observe her awkwardly wrestling with the opening to the shelters. It was irrational, but she was always afraid she would get stuck, and be caught half in, half out, needing to be cut free. It tormented her to consider trapping one of her tiny, flower like, fellow officers in the tent behind her. She always got up before she needed to.

She cleaned up, and then started another fire. It wasn't necessary, the air was warm already, and the rations were self-heating, but a fire looked comfortable. As she had hoped, the crew members were drawn to it, and sat or stood next to it as they ate.

Ziem ate her breakfast and surreptitiously watched Chekov. He was sitting on one of the rocks tinkering with one of the tricorders. Apparently there were some concerns with some of its readings, and Mr. Spock wanted it checked. Ziem remembered the young man was engineering on this mission. His face was clean but his uniform looked like he had slept in it, which, she supposed he probably had. Periodically when he stopped to think he would unconsciously twist the hair by his right ear around a finger. Ziem watched the soft curls stretch, slip free and recoil. She wondered what they felt like.

Hendorff came from the tents to join them. He took a few trays from the rations pile. He threw breakfast packs to Ziem and his friend. Ziem caught hers, considered mentioning that she had eaten earlier, but as there seemed to be plenty, did not. Chekov's bounced off the tricorder and landed in the dirt at his feet. He kept at his work, ignoring the sealed packet. Hendorff sat down by Ziem and tore into his own food.

Mr. Spock stopped to talk to the ensign before giving the work assignments. As the two discussed the problems with the tricorder, the medical officer, Lieutenant Sascheja, stood and addressed the group, using many words to remind everyone to drink plenty of fluids. There really didn't seem to be much else for her to do on this trip but dispense health advice in a voice that sounded like she was lecturing kindergarteners. Mr. Spock took the tricorder from the ensign and walked off with it, perhaps to exchange it for one from the sleds. The ensign watched him go pensively.

The captain arrived, grabbed a rations pack and took a seat on the other side of Hendorff. He called out, "Chekov, how do you not notice when you drop your breakfast? You have got to be more careful. Eat. It's going to be a long day."

Chekov opened his mouth to explain, but seemed to think better of it and sighing, reached down, and picked up the packet. He opened it, and looked at the contents unenthusiastically. He picked up the enclosed breakfast roll and took a little bite. He chewed a bit, swallowed, grimaced, and then said quietly, "Mr. Hendorff?"

"Yeah?" said Geoff.

"You know how when you are in the shuttle bay, and a ship comes in, and maybe it's a little ship, and it's been sealed a long time, and then they open the doors, all that old recycled air comes out?"

"Sure, I've been there for that before. So?" said Hendorff. He didn't stop eating to talk, but chewed and chatted with equal enthusiasm. The captain stopped eating to listen. He stared expectantly at the navigator. Around him the other crew members noticed and began pausing in their own conversations to see what was so interesting.

Oblivious, Chekov continued in the same quiet, hopeless tone, "You know how that air smells, so plastic, and horrible, that it is hard not to turn your head away, but you know that would be rude to whoever is coming out of the ship? So you just stand there and try not to breathe?"

Hendorff nodded, "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. What about it?"

Chekov looked up at his friend and asked, "So, don't you think this bread tastes just like that smell?"

Ziem smiled, because the ensign looked so serious. The captain snickered, Geoff laughed so hard he snorted. Ziem didn't think it was that funny,

Chekov dropped the roll back on to the plate and shook his head at it. "I am not eating this. Do you want it?"

"Sure, give it," Hendorff said and Chekov tossed him the roll. Geoff ripped a huge bite off. He chewed noisily, looking very pleased with his luck.

"You will need to eat Ensign." said Sascheja, probably happy to finally have something actual to instruct someone on.

"I am going to eat this thing right here." said Chekov, poking unenthusiastically at a purple gelatinous mound in the ration pack. Sighing, he stabbed at it with a fork. He dug out a small piece and frowned at it. He turned it over and looked at it closely. Eventually he put it into his mouth. Obviously trying not to taste it, he swallowed without chewing. He got it down but then gagged, and coughed. He shook his head.

"What is this thing?" he asked Hendorff.

Hendorff shrugged, "Some kind of fruit? I don't know, but I kind of liked it. I thought it tasted like gummies."

"It does not taste like gummies," said Chekov. He added, "It has specks in it."

Uhura said, "Don't be ridiculous, you sound like a four year old. It is thickened juice with pieces of fruit in it, and it is not that bad." Chekov shook his head at her and set his spoon down decisively. She sighed and added, "You are the pickiest eater I have ever known."

"Dr. McCoy mentioned that this is the case, and as such is a potential problem on missions." It was difficult to read Major Sascheja's expression, as her round eyes made her seem perpetually surprised, but Ziem thought she sounded genuinely concerned.

"Ah, the fruit compote," said the captain, who did not seem even a little worried. "Everyone wonders what is actually in it, but no one really knows. It's a state secret. Of course, debate rages across the galaxy."

"I think it is congealed snot!" said Martin, who hadn't eaten his either.

"I heard fish cum." laughed Rudolph.

"Oh, Rudolph, you are always such a sophisticated charmer," snapped Uhura, who was seated at Ziem's left side.

Chekov sighed, "Is better not to guess while I am trying not to throw up." he said sadly, and walked over to drop his tray onto Geoff's lap. Yeoman Tremaine cooed encouragement, and Sascheja tut tutted, but everyone else laughed. Even with his mouth was full of compote; Hendorff laughed the loudest of all.

Mr. Spock reappeared with the new tricorder. He gave the work assignments. This time Ziem was assigned to protect Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura. They were working the grid farthest from the camp. As soon as he had finished dividing up the work, Mr. Spock turned and began to walk towards the area. Lieutenant Uhura seemed to have been expecting his exit; she was up and after him immediately. Ziem followed as quickly as she could.

By the time she reached their assigned starting point, Ziem was red faced and sweaty. It was warm already, although the sun was still low in the sky. Mr. Spock had gone to work immediately, walking with the tricorder before him, eyes fixed intently on the screen. Lieutenant Uhura was at work too, but she smiled a welcome to Ziem. Like most humans, she kept her tricorder on her hip, and used the attached cord to distribute its weight across her shoulders.

On the previous day, Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Chekov had called to each other and talked to Ziem as they worked. Mr. Spock was all business, not even looking up when he refused Ziem's offers to relieve him for breaks. Today the lieutenant had on her personal pack, and Ziem thought she was listening to music on her PADD inside it. She had an earpiece in, and sometimes she sang softly. She had a beautiful voice; Ziem enjoyed listening, and tried not to disturb her.

There were a few other changes. It was much warmer than it had been until late on the previous day. And there were birds all around them. Ziem had seen them at a distance before, but they had flown away when they had transported in, and not come close all day. They seemed to be getting comfortable with the presence of the crew; they didn't fly away until the workers got quite close.

They were large birds, the size of a grouse on Ziem's home world. They had brown ragged feathers, and long bronze colored beaks, which they would thrust deep into the sand, to pull out wiggling creatures that they swallowed whole. They seemed to prefer the ground, but could fly short distances. Randomly, one would decide the work group was too close and squawk loudly before jumping into the air to fly seven or eight meters. When they landed they would stare at the crew members, waving their wings, honking and squawking until their bird brain decided they had made their point and they went back to eating.

The noise of the birds was annoying, but worse was their tendency to defecate as they took flight. It got messy with repeated flyovers. Ziem was standing by Lieutenant Uhura when Mr. Spock got hit. He said nothing, but Ziem felt like his back got even straighter, and the arm holding out his tricorder more rigid. She looked at the lieutenant, who was staring at her with a look both horrified and delighted.

"I can't believe that just happened!" whispered Uhura.

"That is one brave, dumb bird." replied Ziem. The two women separated immediately, to avoid laughing. But by noon, when they finally stopped for a break, it had happened to all of them so many times that they did not find it amusing any more.

Ziem was hungry and hot when Lieutenant Uhura reminded Mr. Spock that they were scheduled for a break. He said that he would continue working, as he did not need to eat or rest, but that she should do as she required and rejoin him when she could.

"Spock," Uhura said. "Neither Sabide nor I absolutely need a break, but we will both benefit from eating, drinking and a chance to do something besides stare at a tricorder. Your decision to continue working places the lieutenant in a difficult position. She is under orders to stay with both of us, which she cannot do if you do not sit down with me." She paused then pointed a short way off her assigned path. "As there is a tree right there, and it offers some shade, I think that for the good of the mission you should eat lunch with me."

Mr. Spock listened to the lieutenant with one raised eyebrow. He nodded and said, "Very well. I neglected to consider the lieutenant's orders. I will follow you." And Lieutenant Uhura led the way to the scant shade of the little tree.

Ziem marveled that the lieutenant could be so bold when addressing the first officer. Most of the crew was intimidated by him, for several reasons. He was powerful, second only to the captain on the ship, which meant he outranked everyone. Then, he was considered to be brilliant even by Vulcan standards, and Ziem thought most people felt stupid talking to him. She knew she always did, on those rare occasions when she had to. Finally, he was Vulcan, and so, inscrutable. Most species were uncomfortable when they could not evaluate another's emotional state. Some responded antagonistically to Mr. Spock's precision and reserve, as Mr. Lapinski had yesterday, but most were just uncomfortable around him. Lieutenant Uhura was more at ease talking to him than anyone else Ziem had ever seen. They worked together, she knew, on the alpha shift of the bridge, maybe all that time spent together made her less nervous around him than Ziem could imagine ever being.

The tree offered little shade, but it was better than nothing, and there was a bit of the dry Phadruan grass growing under it. They settled down. Lieutenant Uhura leaned against the trunk, and sipped a bottle of water, eyes closed peacefully. Mr. Spock began to review the information on his tricorder. Ziem dug in her pack for the lunch supplies. She found the ration packs, and next to them, tied together with a bit of braided grass rope, were a small container of nuts and a large square box of chocolate milk. Someone had written, 'Enjoy Ziem! From: G & P,' across it.

Ziem held the box in both her hands and smiled. She felt thrilled, far happier than the little gift merited, because it was so nice to be thought of. She couldn't remember the last time someone had surprised her.

"What's that? Lieutenant Uhura asked.

"Oh, um, nothing, just..." Ziem realized she was grinning stupidly at a couple of food items and tried to calm herself. She held the gift out for the lieutenant to see. To Ziem's surprise, Uhura also looked delighted.

"How nice! Where did that come from?" Uhura asked.

"Geoff, that is, Mr. Hendorff," Ziem corrected herself. "He told me last night that he and Mr. Chekov stuffed their entire packs with snacks. I guess they decided to share."

"Oh sure, I see, G. and P. means Geoff and Pavel. That's sweet." After a pause, the lieutenant added, "Really? They filled their whole packs with food?"

"I guess, Geoff said Ensign Chekov didn't even bring a change of clothes, and from how he talked I am not sure that Geoff even has a toothbrush for himself." Ziem said. The lieutenant laughed, and Ziem wondered if she had betrayed a confidence. Nervously she continued to rummage in her pack. At the bottom she found another box of milk. In the same ink, but different penmanship, it said, "Give this one to Lt. U."

"Look lieutenant! There's one here for you too!" Ziem said excitedly.

"Good!" Uhura said, she took the box and added, "That is Pasha's writing. He is really very kind." She looked at the box and said, "Chocolate milk? Really? This is what a grown man and Starfleet officer takes in his pack for an away mission? He hates it when people treat him like a child, but I wonder if he ever considers why it might be that they do." She inspected the container and added, "Well, at least it's the good stuff, full fat and real chocolate. He may have the eating habits of a five year old, but he is a five year old with good taste."

"I feel bad," said Ziem. "There isn't one for the commander."

"Oh don't worry. Mr. Spock is a vegan. Most Vulcans are. And he doesn't really enjoy sweets, especially chocolate. I'll offer him some of mine, but I will be surprised if he wants any." The lieutenant moved over to where the science officer continued to analyze his data. She sat down again and began to speak with him. Ziem was surprised when he stopped his work and appeared to give the lieutenant his full attention. They spoke very quietly, Ziem felt like they deserved some privacy, so she shifted into Uhura's vacated seat against the tree, turned her face away, and opened her lunch.

Ziem ate her rations, turkey and stuffing, peas and carrots. It tasted exactly the same as the previous day's chicken and noodle casserole. The rations were all made to appeal to as many, or perhaps to offend as few, Federation members as possible. They were all plant proteins and fiber, shaped and flavored to resemble common meals. Ziem found the taste of most of them dull, but not horrible. The consistency of the food was always off though. Except for those beings with specific animal protein needs, the food on the ship was made the same way, but it did tend to taste fresher, and it was easier to individualize the seasonings. The rations were oddly chewy, and blandly flavored, but Ziem always finished hers.

She tried to eat slowly, but it seemed to take almost no time till the food was gone. After she ate the cookie from the dessert packet in the rations, and then ate the cup of nuts and berries from Geoff, she drank the remainder of her morning allotment of water. Finally, still hungry, she pried the lid off the milk container. It popped loudly, and there was a whoosh of air as whatever chemical process opening the container triggered made the contents of the box cool to just above freezing. Ziem took a sip, savoring the cold and the sweet taste. She settled back to enjoy the treat.

She glanced over at Uhura and Spock talking, and wondered what in the day's work could possibly be so interesting. Perhaps the lieutenant was explaining the milk, because she was smiling, and looked very relaxed. Mr. Spock was watching her intently. He was, of course, not smiling, but Ziem got the impression he was enjoying the conversation. Something in the tilt of his head, or maybe in the way he leaned toward the woman made him seem happy. But Vulcans, Ziem had always heard, didn't have emotions. She reminded herself that the chief believed security guards should pay attention to facts and not spend their time in speculation. She looked away again.

Leaning against the tree and full for the first time in days, Ziem closed her eyes. She meant only to relax, but somehow she dozed off. She was mortified when the lieutenant awakened her by softly called her name. She stumbled to her feet, still clutching her half full box of milk.

"I am sorry sir! I was derelict in my duties! I don't..." Ziem couldn't think what to say next, could only think of Chief Giotto's anger when he heard about her sleeping on the job.

"Relax; you were out a very short time, minutes. It could happen to anyone, and we weren't in any danger. I don't think we have to mention this to anyone at all. Everything is fine! Commander Spock is just very eager to get back to work." Lieutenant Uhura said with a smile.

Mr. Spock was in fact already out in the field, tricorder before him, standing ramrod straight awaiting the machine's signal to walk forward. Ziem started to trot to her position, between the two officers. She stopped when she got there, and stared at the milk, thinking she should throw it out.

The lieutenant must have guessed her thoughts, because she called, "Don't dump it. Put it in your pack and finish it later. It is getting so hot I know you'll be glad if you do!"

Ziem did as suggested, and then spent the rest of the day in careful attention to duty. She followed the chief's plans precisely, walking between the workers, and then walking the perimeter of the work area. She tried very hard to be the perfect, alert security officer, but she couldn't stop feeling ashamed of her failure.

She was glad of the milk though. She had almost finished all her afternoon water allotment in a few hours. She switched to the milk at about 1500. She knew the sugar content would eventually make her thirstier, but she felt so parched she decided she didn't care. In the short term the milk was delicious, and the cold box in her pack made her feel cooler. After she finished it she switched back to her water, and managed to make it through the afternoon. At 1800, hot, thirsty, and splattered with bird poop, the team returned to camp.

Chapter 9  
Evening, the Second Day

Apparently the other work crews had knocked off earlier than Mr. Spock's had. While walking into camp Ziem saw Yeoman Tremaine, Ensign Chekov, and Geoff coming out. They were each carrying what looked like a small bundle of clothes. The two men had their packs on. Mr. Spock continued into camp, but the lieutenant and Ziem stopped to chat with the crewmen.

"Where are you off to?" asked Lieutenant Uhura.

The yeoman said, "Today when I was exploring with the captain we found a little dammed off a section on the creek. Some of the previous work crew must have left it. It's probably supposed to be for bathing, but our uniforms got so dirty from those gross birds, I am going to rinse them off. We don't have soap or anything, but they can't possibly be worse than they are right now. If you bring yours down and I'll do them too."

"I can do my own laundry. Tell the captain it is not your job to do his." the lieutenant said testily.

"Oh he didn't tell me to do it. I offered. And Pav said he'd be happy to help." said Tremaine. Chekov nodded.

"And I am providing security." Hendorff said with a grin.

"Because there could be turtles." said Chekov.

"And you never know what a turtle might try." Hendorff added, patting his phaser.

As the young people walked away, Ziem heard the yeoman ask, "Do you really think there will be turtles?"

"I'd be surprised if there aren't. They're all probably pretty big ones too." Hendorff said.

"What if they bite? I don't think I can get in the water if there are turtles in it." Tremaine sounded worried.

Geoff teased, "Don't worry. I doubt they could actually kill you. And Lieutenant Sascheja can regenerate something small like a finger."

The last of their conversation Ziem heard was the ensign saying soothingly, "Don't worry Beth. I will check with the tricorder. We will know everything in the water before we get in it."

Ziem found the chief and reported that her shift had been uneventful. She got a PADD and did some paperwork, and then went to start a fire. From the pits she could see a rope had been slung between two of the stunted trees. There were uniforms hanging haphazardly from it. It wasn't very high, most of the pants dragged on the ground, but the tiny little dresses didn't. Lieutenant Uhura must have joined the laundry party after all; because as Ziem watched the lieutenant and Ensign Chekov hung a last few, wet uniforms. It took them longer than it should have, because they didn't do it in a very systematic way. They would approach the line from opposite sides, and then quickly snap a wet garment over it and dash back the direction they came. Eventually Ziem realized they were trying to spray each other with water. It was a very inefficient way to hang clothes. They kept dropping other people's uniforms in the dust, and would have to run back down to the river and rinse them off. Sometimes they grabbed a few outfits off the line before they went, seemingly for more ammunition.

They seemed to enjoy the game. They laughed and called encouragement to each other. Chekov snapping a dress over the line Lieutenant Uhura, who was always so regal, shocked Ziem by actually squealing when she got a face full of water. It must have surprised Chekov too, he ducked under the line to see if the lieutenant was alright. Immediately Uhura swung a pair of sopping trousers straight into his chest. He gasped and grabbed for them. Uhura hung on and they had a tug of war. Ziem thought about joining them, but decided to leave them to their play.

She went down to the pit farthest from the tents and started a fire. It was still unpleasantly warm, but fires kept animals away at night, and they gave the crew a place to gather for meals and conversations. The chief, she knew, was always in favor of anything that kept the crew close together in manageable, easily guarded groups. And it worked, because very soon Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Chekov came and joined her. They were both red faced from their game, and still laughing periodically when they looked at each other.

The lieutenant sat gracefully on one of the rock stools. As was typical, the young man crouched on the ground, just a bit farther away from the fire. He looked different to Ziem; she stared at him, trying to figure out why. He sensed her scrutiny, and glanced up at her, smiling a little nervously. She realized his curls were very wet, hanging long and low, framing his face more than the regulations allowed. It made his eyes seem even bigger, and Ziem liked the way he looked. That flustered her and made her feel a little nervous. To distract herself, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Are you wet?" Ziem asked the ensign.

"I went for a swim." he answered.

"Why don't you just go change?" said Lieutenant Uhura.

"I am almost dry already." Chekov assured her. Ziem remembered Geoff saying he hadn't brought extra clothes.

"You don't look very dry." Uhura said doubtfully.

"I feel cooler than I have all day." He said firmly.

"Hello Crew!" called a loud voice. Ziem was surprised to see the captain. He strolled up to the fire and sat down next to Uhura. He took a huge bite of an apple that he carried. Ziem wondered if she was the only being on the entire crew that hadn't provided herself with extra food.

"How was it today? Could you believe those damn birds? I actually think I prefer armed insurgence! You couldn't escape them. My uniform was covered in shit." The captain talked around his snack. He sounded friendly and interested in a way that Ziem could not imagine Chief Giotto being.

"Hey," the captain directed his attention at the ensign. "Are you wet? What happened? Let me guess. You fell in the creek didn't you? Chekov, you have got to start looking where you are going, someday you are going to walk right over the side of a cliff." The captain didn't sound angry, more teasing Ziem thought.

Chekov looked offended and opened his mouth, but stopped before he spoke. His expression got sly and then he said, "If I fell in I couldn't really get in trouble for that? Is accident right?"

"You mean like, as opposed to jumping into the water fully clothed for fun while technically on duty without checking with any of your superior officers?" The captain chewed his apple and tried to looks thoughtful, but only succeeded in looking slightly less teasing. The ensign didn't answer, but watched Captain Kirk speculatively. Ziem felt much more nervous than he looked.

"Tough one, but since you didn't need rescuing I don't actually care one way or the other. However, I sincerely doubt Chief Giotto is going to be pleased with either option, so if I were you, I would stay far away from him until I was dry." The captain chewed some more on his apple, and then added, "And by the way, your boots are dry, which means you took them off to go in. Although," and the captain began to laugh as he spoke, "it is you, and we all know how graceful you're not, so it's possible you just accidently fell in while cleaning them or something." The captain looked at the younger man some more and then asked, "Why don't you just go change?"

The ensign shrugged and stared into the fire.

"I think it's possible he didn't bring any spare clothing." Uhura said disapprovingly. The ensign frowned at the fire, ignoring them both.

"Really Chekov? You didn't? Then what's in your pack?" Kirk asked. Chekov continued to frown at the fire; the captain said again, "Chekov, what's in your pack?"

The ensign sighed and answered, "A blanket, spare batteries for my PADD."

"You brought batteries for your PADD?" The captain laughed.

"Sometimes I have ideas I need to write down. Recharging my PADD is not a priority on away missions" the ensign sounded defensive, which made the captain laugh harder.

"Yeah, real important ideas, it would be a loss to the universe if you don't record them. Or maybe you can't sleep knowing someone out there might have beaten one of your best scores."

"Maybe that too." agreed the younger man, looking embarrassed.

The captain laughed harder, and then said, "You could have packed ten batteries and still have wedged some clothes in there."

"I brought food too. I knew I would hate all the rations. Dr. McCoy is always telling me to eat more. I try to do what I am told and everyone tells me I am wrong." The ensign said, sounding careworn. Ziem looked at him worriedly. His looked very sad, but when he saw Ziem's expression he smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. She realized with a start that he was teasing the captain. She felt nervous and wondered how he dared.

"Here's an idea, you could just force yourself to try new things." Lieutenant Uhura interjected.

"I try new things often." Chekov said. "I just seldom like them."

Uhura said skeptically, "No you don't. When was the last time you tried something new?"

"I tried that stew they replicated the day we left."

"You did?" Uhura sounded like she doubted it.

"I tried it," said Chekov. "I didn't say I liked it. It tasted like a bowl of aluminum and so I recycled it."

Uhura and the captain both laughed at him, and Ziem smiled too, because he sounded so disgusted.

Uhura said, "That was awful, anything with replicated peppers always is. I don't actually blame you for that one. But seriously, do you eat anything you didn't eat when you were a tiny child?"

"A tinier child than now she means." added the captain, in a mocking voice. That earned him a cold stare from the lieutenant, but Chekov actually smiled at him, like he got the joke.

What was the last new thing you liked?" Uhura asked, trying again.

The ensign thought and then said, "I never ate lasagna before I was on the Enterprise. Now I eat it whenever they have it." He seemed proud of his accomplishment.

"Anything else?" asked the captain.

The ensign looked thoughtful, and then added, "It's not brand new, but I never ate birthday cake before I was at the academy. I had cake of course, but not fancy ones like on the ship. Now I will eat as much as I can get. I ate one half of the cake at Yeoman Rand's party last week." he paused and then added, "It was chocolate and everyone else said they had enough."

The captain turned to Uhura. "He eats lasagna and cake. And you think he lacks an adventurous spirit."

The lieutenant rolled her eyes, "Don't they have birthday cake in Russia?"

"Yes," said the ensign. "But it tends to be pie. And my birthday is in September, so I was always at school." He looked serious and added, "You would be surprised at how little celebration there is of the quietest member of the chess team."

The captain laughed again, he looked like he had more to say, but his communicator sounded. He pulled it out, glanced at it, sighed, and began to stand up. As he did so he reached over and ruffled the ensign's hair, or tried to, but he only succeeded in shaking the younger man's head which sprayed water onto his own pants.

"Now you got me wet." He said. "Only you could manage to do that out without even standing up." Still laughing, the captain ambled off in the direction he had come from. Ensign Chekov sighed very loudly and gazed at the fire. After a minute he reached up and started squeezing water out of his hair. They sat quietly for a while, and watched the fire burn. Eventually, the lieutenant broke the silence.

"Alright," she said, "now we talk. What's up with him and the clumsy?" Uhura sounded a little angry. The ensign looked at her uncertainly and she started again a little more gently. "Why does he keep implying you are clumsy?"

"I am clumsy." said the ensign, sounding surprised.

"No. You aren't." Uhura paused, frowned, and then said, "Well, yes you are, but that's because you write in your PADD while you're walking. And you go too fast all the time. Or you start walking sideways and chattering to whomever is next to you instead of looking where you are going and run into walls. Or people." She shrugged and added, "occasionally robots."

"I actually went more over that robot than into it." Chekov said reflectively, gazing into the fire. "It still hurt an unbelievable amount though."

The corner of Uhura's mouth twitched, but she said firmly, "We are getting away from the subject. The point is those things have always been true, which means you are no more clumsy now than you were last month and he managed to have conversations with you then without bringing it up. So I want to know what changed." The lieutenant stared penetrating at the ensign. He ignored her and continued to look at the fire.

After he hadn't responded for several seconds, the lieutenant spoke again, more gently this time. "Pasha, no one who has seen you run or play the piano would ever say you are clumsy. I know something happened. I want to know what."

There was a long pause and then Chekov said very quietly, "I will tell you later."

"No. That's what you said when I asked you yesterday. You are just trying to avoid answering me. For you, it is later. Start talking now." The lieutenant was looking fierce again; the ensign sighed and turned toward the two women.

It occurred to Ziem that he might want privacy to talk to his friend. She said, "I can leave, I'm sorry," and started to stand.

"Oh no Ziem!" the ensign smiled kindly. "Geoff tells me you know all our secrets, so you are my new friend. I don't mind if you hear. It's just that I know it is unwise of me to say anything to anyone."

"Well you don't have any choice." Uhura said firmly.

"Okay! Alright, I understand! I will tell." He paused and then said, "But you must promise not to say anything about this? It could be bad for me if you do." He looked pleadingly first at Uhura, and then at Ziem, who gave a determined nod, and couldn't help thinking what beautiful eyes the young man had.

"Sure, sure, whatever, start talking." Uhura said briskly. It didn't surprise Ziem that the lieutenant was so little affected by the ensign's entreaty. She felt certain the beautiful Lieutenant Uhura had far more experience with young men begging her for things than she herself did.

The ensign turned back to the fire, sighed heavily and began. "The captain heard that I beat Mr. Spock during our last chess game." The ensign sighed again and then continued, "When that happens, he always says he wants to play me. And we have played several times in the past." The ensign picked up a stick and poked at the fire.

"Pasha, don't take this the wrong way," Lieutenant Uhura surprised Ziem by sounding very tentative as she spoke. She paused like she was considering what to say and then added, "I think you should consider carefully if you really want to play competitive games with the captain. I don't want to insult you, but I am not sure it is a great idea for you to beat him at chess. Well, actually at anything. He just doesn't lose very well."

Chekov gave her a sad look, "Why does everyone think I am an idiot? I know that. I have watched the captain spar with Hikaru. I know he hates to lose. I know he cannot stop trying for a rematch. Mr. Sulu is much tougher than me. I could never stand the...intensity. I know the captain would just make me play over and over until he wins anyway, so…I just see that he always wins. It is easier, and better for me."

"I don't see," began Uhura, but the younger man continued.

"Of course, sometimes he just beats me. Captain Kirk is amazing, as we know. He is good at everything. He is a very good chess player." The young man took a breath, looked up at the women and, sounding apologetic, continued, "But I am also very good, maybe, an excellent chess player, and I have played mostly against humans, so he does not surprise me as he so often does Mr. Spock. I think I would beat him more often than Mr. Spock does if I wanted to. Which as I say, I do not. So...if he is not beating me, I make him win. Sometimes he just needs me to make a few mistakes. Sometimes though, he is not paying attention, and I have to work hard to lose without seeming to try to do so. Two weeks ago was time like that. He said he wanted to play. I put him off, but he insisted. He found me in the rec room watching vids with my friends, and he had brought a board, and I could not make him wait. But then we began to play and he would not pay attention! He talked to everyone. He kept saying to everyone that they should come to watch and learn. Learn what? That I cheat at chess? How could that help? He would be very angry to learn I do not always do my best against him. I told him an audience makes me uncomfortable, he said toughen up, and then turned to watch the vid. He flirted with a yeoman, with everyone really. He would not play chess! I did not know what to do. I could not tell him to pay attention. I could not play bad enough for him to win without raising the suspicions of everyone who watched... And then the very worst thing that could happen did." The ensign sighed again, and returned his gaze to the fire. Frowning, he shoved his stick deep into it. For several seconds he didn't speak.

Uhura leaned in and said eagerly, "What very worst thing? What happened?" Ziem dipped her head closer too. She couldn't help it. She tried to imagine what could possibly been so bad.

The ensign looked sadly at the two women. He started to speak several times before he finally said, very quietly, "You know Yeoman Perkins?"

Uhura looked at Ziem with confusion, then back at the ensign. "Yes. Sure, I know her, so what?"

"She is beautiful." said the ensign softly, "She is one of those I can't even talk when she is in the room." He sighed.

"Get on with the story." ordered Uhura, sounding unimpressed.

"Well, Yeoman Perkins, she must have been in charge of some department meeting, because she walked backwards out of the conference room off the rec area. And part of her uniform was stuck in those, um, those little pants part of the uniform. You know what I mean?" He curved his hand into an open semicircle and somehow Ziem had a vision of a uniform skirt tucked into the matching spanx.

"You could see part of her backside. So perfect." he said, sounding a little awestruck.

The ensign paused again, seemed lost in the memory, then remembered himself and added, "I was staring, I know, but the captain, he was really staring. And then it got worse, because when she turned around, she was carrying a platter. And guess what is on this platter? The leftover food from the meeting, donuts, and cookies, sandwiches maybe? I don't know, because I was not interested. But the captain was. She walked across the room with it, right past us, over to where her friends were. Then she bent over to share with them the food."

Lieutenant Uhura started to laugh. The ensign looked at her sadly. Finally she said, "I'm sorry, it's just so perfect, A Kirk trifecta! A good looking woman, partially naked, carrying carbohydrates! Oh my God! Did he get up and follow her?"

"No" said Chekov. "But he should have! He wouldn't even try any more. He didn't even pretend to be interested. I did not know what to do. I just wanted it all to be over. I could only think of one way to get away. It was not a good idea, but I had no others. I waited until the captain had all his attention on Yeoman Perkins, and then I reached my hand out and I flipped the board over. It was easy."

"There's a crowd of people standing around you and no one notices you do that? That's hard to believe," Uhura said.

He shrugged and said, "Captain Kirk was not looking; and so no one was. He is such a strong personality that everyone even watches where he looks."

"You know," murmured Uhura, "I hate to admit it, but that's actually a good insight."

"I have noticed it before." Chekov said matter of factly.

"What happened then?" Uhura asked.

He gestured emptily and then continued, "He prefers three dimensional chess. Do you have any idea how loud it is when one of those layered chess boards hits a metal deck? It shattered, and the noise startled Yeoman Perkins. She dropped the platter right on to her friends. Then they were upset, and they became noisy too. The captain yelled at me in front of everyone."

Uhura grimaced and patted his arm. He said, "I did not bother me. In my heart, I was happy, because I could just concede and I did not have to beat him at chess."

They sat quietly for a few seconds, and then Lieutenant Uhura began to snicker. Chekov looked at her with surprise. "It is not funny, it was horrible," he said. But in another second he started to smile, and then to laugh a little bit. And although she didn't want to, Ziem found herself chuckling too.

"So now you're the guy who broke the chess board." said the lieutenant.

The ensign nodded, but then he gave the women a sly, sideways look and said, "I have an idea though, that the captain is suspicious. He keeps trying to provoke me, mentioning my clumsiness so many times. I think he wants me to defend myself and confess everything. But I never will. He thinks he can shame me into speaking, but I consider this a victory"

As he spoke his communicator sounded. He opened it, identified himself, and listened. He said, "I am going to do that right now sir, and I will let you know what I find." He jumped up and said, "Mr. Spock wishes me to calibrate all the tricorders and clean them well. Apparently, like us, they object to being covered for hours in chicken shit." He started to hurry off towards the camp, but stopped after a few steps to turn back and put his finger to his lips, reminding them to be careful with his secret. When Ziem nodded he grinned and then turned and ran off, towards Mr. Spock and his responsibilities.

Lieutenant Uhura continued to laugh. Eventually she said, "Only him." and laughed again.

"He's very entertaining." agreed Ziem a little uncertainly.

"Yes, he really is." Uhura said. "I work around a lot of the command track ensigns. They are usually annoying, attention seeking little jerks, but he really is different. He's very competent, but a bit shy, and definitely not a show off. We both work alpha shifts on the bridge, so I get to spend a fair amount of time around him. When he's relaxed and doesn't feel observed, he's enthusiastic, about everything. And that always kind of reminds me how amazing it is that I get to work there too. It reminds me to love my job."

Uhura continued, "I admit, I find him...oddly endearing, which is not at all like me. I don't know how he does it, but somehow he brings it out in me. The only thing is, I hate the way that he completely hero worships the captain. I mean, did you notice today, even as he is describing the captain bullying him into doing something he doesn't like, he doesn't blame him? It is like he just accepts Jim Kirk can't be held to the same standards as a normal person. It's annoying."

Ziem said, "I didn't notice that," in a weak voice.

Lieutenant Uhura continued, "I can kind of understand it after the last couple years. But still, he takes it to ridiculous lengths." Uhura shook her head. Then she added, "Mark my words, if the captain acts even a little bit sad, or disappointed in him over this chess thing, he will confess everything, apologize over and over, and feel guilty for denying our hero another victory. It's ridiculous."

"The captain really is amazing though." Ziem was a little shocked by the lieutenant's attitude toward their commanding officer. Captain Kirk was admired throughout the galaxy. Ziem considered herself extremely lucky to be assigned to the Enterprise. She admired the senior officers wholeheartedly and was honored to serve under them.

"I didn't say he wasn't amazing." Lieutenant Uhura said tartly. "He is. We all owe him our lives. I get that. But I have known him a long time, and I am telling you, he admires himself plenty, and he doesn't need worship from any of us."

Ziem disagreed, but the thought of contradicting the communications officer made her uncomfortable. They were of equal rank, but the other lieutenant had more experience. And Ziem didn't want to risk looking stupid or uninformed in front of her. She never had trouble insisting people listen to her in work situations, but she often felt awkward in day to day discussions. Disagreements with beings she like were very hard. She knew she was unsophisticated. She knew she stood out in the hallways and the mess halls. She didn't want to give people another reason to laugh at her.

"I am sure you're right Ma'am." Ziem said quietly.

Uhura seemed a little taken back by Ziem's withdrawal. She studied Ziem thoughtfully, which made Ziem feel ungainly. Communication specialists, Ziem knew, were trained to interpret even nonverbal communications. She tried to look at ease and uninterested.

"I am sorry Sabide." said the Lieutenant. "This is one of my causes. Sometimes I overstate my case. You can hero worship the captain and I will respect your right to do so." She sounded friendly and kind, Ziem found herself relaxing a little.

"I don't know any of the senior officers except by reputation Lieutenant. You really would know more about this than I do." said Ziem. "I probably can't stop having him for a hero though."

"I will try to remember to respect your perspective. I tolerate it from Chekov, I can tolerate it from you too." laughed Uhura.

"Thank you Lieutenant." Ziem answered. She tried to match the other woman's relaxed tone, but knew she sounded stiff. She suddenly longed to return to the ship, and the security department, where she knew what she should say and what was expected of her all the time.

Ziem turned back to her work, preparing a stack of the firewood for the night. She tried to put her whole mind to it, but she found herself wondering if the ensign had managed to avoid the chief until he was entirely dry. She hoped so.

Almost as if the chief knew she was thinking of him, her communicator buzzed.

"This is Sabide." she said.

The chief's voice sounded tinny through the speaker, "Giotto here. Get on back. We've got company coming."

Facing a problem, Ziem immediately felt competent again. In a businesslike tone she said, "Lieutenant, we need to rejoin the others." Jumping up, Uhura followed her back to the main camp.


	4. Chapter 10-13

**I thought it would maybe take two or three days to edit this thing and put it up. Well, I am learning a lot. I want to thank** **Afroz for suggesting some editing to the summary too.**

Chapter 10  
Evening and Night, the Second Day

When they joined the others at the main camp, Chief Giotto explained the situation. "Some sort of caravan is approaching. The ship's sensors say it is local folk, probably representatives of the district clan's hierarchy. They apparently like to stop in and visit from time to time. There is no indication they are armed, but I want everyone ready for any possibility." With some bitterness he added, "The captain says weapons out but not aimed."

That was counter to the protocols Giotto had outlined back on the ship. Ziem was glad she had not witnessed the captain overruling the chief's plans. She made a mental note to ask Geoff about it later, when she was certain their discussion would not be overheard.

Ziem stepped into her assigned position. They were in a diamond formation. Ziem was in the back, with the crew before her. Giotto was in the front, beside the captain. Hendorff and Rudolf were each a point on the diamond. They all had unobstructed views of the potential threat, and clear lines to shoot in.

In the distance she could see dust rising from the approaching vehicles. Mentally she began to prepare for battle. She checked her weapon, it was charged and ready to go. She checked her team, they were focused and ready for action. She checked the crew, they were satisfactory. The chief had wanted them to stay out of sight. The captain had again overruled him, insisting that there was no reason to be afraid. He said that the Phadruans had never been aggressive before, and that treating them as threats might even encourage them to consider that an option. The crew seemed to agree; only Wilson looked completely undone. She supposed it was natural he would be frightened after Tormos. Lieutenant Uhura had stopped to grab a universal translator from the stored supplies; she held it and stood with the captain at the front of the group. They both looked alert, but not anxious. The first officer was close by, between and slightly behind them, looking as collected as he always did. The captain's yeoman, Tremaine, was by Hendorff. She was at rigid attention with her eyes fixed on the captain. Ziem thought she looked uneasy, but she didn't fuss or fidget. Lapinski, Martin, and Sascheja stood closer to Rudolph's corner. The nurse looked at the approaching vehicles disapprovingly, like they were an annoyance. The two young men spoke quietly to each other, and occasionally shared a laugh. Ziem thought Martin was probably a little anxious because he seemed to be avoiding looking at the vehicles. She thought Lapinski looked more excited than afraid. He looked up frequently to check the vehicle's progress, and then returned to joking with Martin. Wilson and Chekov were in the very center of the group. Wilson looked miserable. He paced in tight circles, and slowly rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if he were cold. Chekov worked calmly with a tricorder. Periodically he would smile reassuringly at the geologist and show him the screen. Whatever was on it would calm Wilson briefly, but after a few seconds he would shudder and return to pacing.

Ziem remembered the accounts of the slaughter of the scientists on Tormos. The terrorists had arrived in broad daylight, had pulled up and started blasting. She understood why the chief considered their group equally vulnerable to attack. There was no shelter in the area, nothing sturdier than the stunted trees to hide behind. As the vehicles pulled closer she reminded herself of one of her favorite of the chief's adages: Good to prepare for what might be, but better to deal with what is. Taking a deep breath, she checked the charge on her weapon one more time and got ready to meet the visitors.

The caravan arrived. Three large boxes more than two meters tall and a little longer floated in close formation, then settled into the sandy ground just a few meters from the chief. They were brightly painted in fanciful patterns. For several seconds they sat perfectly still. The chief said quietly, "Chekov?" The ensign looked up from the tricorder and gave the chief a thumb up. Ziem realized the chief must have asked him to scan the visitors for weapons.

"Okay people, the situation looks low threat, but stay alert." The chief said as he stepped in front of the captain.

There was a click from one of the boxes. She heard several deep breaths, as members of the crew realized the waiting was finished and tried to prepare for the unknown. There were two more clicks, and then first one, then the others of the boxes opened.

The sides of the transports slid back just enough to allow a figure to slip out of each of the vehicles. They were very alike, hairless humanoids dressed in drab jumpsuits just a little lighter than their sand colored skin. They jumped to the ground and looked around. They ignored the crew, and instead stared at each other. The tallest one waved his hand and all three grabbed the door of a vehicle. In unison they shoved them back like great, garish barn doors. When they would open no farther, the little figures stood in front of them, at what certainly looked like attention, with hands behind their backs, and gazed attentively at the first vehicle.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the first vehicle. It was not unlike the first three beings, but more robust. Ziem knew from her earlier research that it was an indigenous citizen of Phadru. It appeared to be male, and was dressed very gaudily, in a crimson robe streaked with gold and black. He was smaller than most of the crew, and slight, but had a rounded middle. He was so big bellied in fact that she wondered if he padded his abdomen in compliance with some local fashion. He stepped out of the vehicle and stood with his fists pressed very firmly into his hips.

"Captain, the Phadru," Lieutenant Uhura said softly, "place their arms in that position to stress that they are carrying no weapons. It is similar to putting your hands over your head on Earth."

The captain nodded but did not look away from the little being. The Phadruan took a few more steps towards the crew. He stopped, wrinkled his brow, looked back at the being standing by the door to his vehicle, and stamped his foot. He began to hiss unintelligibly. In response the other Phadruan turned and reached into the vehicle.

Immediately each member of the security team raised their weapons. Unaware, the more drably dressed Phadruan rooted in the back of the first vehicle. He pulled a purse sized pouch from the vehicle. When he turned around and saw the phasers aimed at him he squeaked, then slowly raised the pouch above his head and walked to the better dressed one with a peculiar stooped posture. He kept his hands up, his head down, and his whole body bent sideways. Ziem did not alter her level of readiness, but the posture reminded her of a puppy approaching a larger dog, and she could not help feeling more relaxed. The Phadruan in brown set the pouch on the sand before the gaudily dressed Phadruan. He patted at it with his foot and then stood upright and scurried back to his position by the vehicle.

"Mr. Giotto, it isn't Starfleet issue, but I think that is a translator. There is no indication it is armed." Chekov called from where he was scanning in the middle of the group.

The chief nodded, and signaled for his crew to stand down. Ziem holstered her weapon, and returned to watchful alert status.

The brightly dressed Phadruan advanced a few more steps and looking down at the pouch, hissed again. The pouch began to translate aloud, just slightly delayed from the being's actual speech.

"Yes, yes, it is a translator. We carry no weapons. Why would we wish to bring weapons to the camp of our very good Federation friends? Not when we are so pleased to have them here in our homelands, where we hope to hurry them to the development of these wastelands. Oh yes, it is so very good luck for our so deserving clan." The machine's voice lacked inflection, but it was already translating while Lieutenant Uhura's was still learning the speaker.

"I am James T. Kirk, captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise, and leader of this team." The captain stepped past the chief, ignoring his angry glare.

"Oh yes, we have all heard of James T. Kirk, captain of the illustrious Starship Enterprise and hero of the galaxy! Welcome, welcome James T. Kirk. Look, in preparation for your visit I have learned to greet Terrans as they do each other. Watch, watch me!" The being dropped his arms, and wiggled his whole body like an actor preparing for a role. Then he stepped toward the captain with his lids drooping half closed over his big eyes. He stuck out his right arm, with thumb toward the sky. He squeezed his mouth shut and barely opened it to say in heavily accented Standard, "Hello there! I am Spand, the second son of Hauz, clan leader of the Truleyphadru. I am so pleased to meet you."

The chief looked confused as he watched the performance. Ziem thought the Phadruan might possibly consider the odd grimace an approximation of a human face. The captain seemed to agree. He looked amused, and glanced at Uhura.

"I think you should shake his hand Captain." she said.

Kirk reached out with his right arm, grasped the smaller being's hand and pumped it. He said, "Glad to meet you Spand. We are enjoying our time here on Phadru."

His Standard apparently depleted, the little being switched back to letting the translator supply it. "Ha! I bet you are not enjoying any time in this desert wasteland. This hole from Hell will improve much when the Federation covers it in metal and concrete." As he spoke his eyes darted around, taking in the camp and the crew. His face was rather reptilian, with the large dark eyes, flat nose and wide lipless mouth Ziem had seen in the preparation materials for the planet. He looked like a clever, fat gecko. His grin made him seem very happy, but Ziem reminded herself it was always wrong to interpret a being's appearance or expressions without proper preparation. That is why every bridge crew and every away team included a communication officer.

As Spand continued to talk, the lieutenant's translator was able to synch up the being's individual speech patterns with its preloaded vocabulary, and began to broadcast to the crew's communication devices. Ziem preferred it, because it supplied inflection, and enabled her to hear the conversation in the way it was intended to be understood. Spand did not offer to turn off his translator and continued to speak to it. When the devices synced it was easy to ignore his, but when they disagreed on a word it was jarring.

"You are not a big group. You must work hard to get this last ridiculous Federation hurdle jumped. Our clan is eager to have a huge factory on our lands." He turned his head to the drab figures by the vehicles and snarled. "Get my coward sons out of the wagons and out here to impress the Federation flunkies."

The translator made his rude words sound pleasantly conversational. Ziem wondered if it hadn't fully calibrated. It seemed impossible anyone would choose those words without bad intention. Polite or impolite, his words were quickly heeded. The drably dressed Phadruans all scurried into the vehicles. When they emerged they were followed by six more Phadruans, each dressed flamboyantly in robes splashed with color. While the original three went back to their positions by the doors, the six sharply dressed ones came forward to join Spand.

"James T. Kirk, I have brought for you to meet, my six oldest sons. They all have large families, and are here to impress to you the importance of the Federation getting done with its silly list taking and begin to build the clan our cash cow factory. The families in our clan cannot wait to begin to earn dividends and rental money." The translator continued to interpret Spand's tone as friendly.

He introduced each of the younger beings. Their names were difficult for Ziem to differentiate. Each of them thrust their arm forward to awkwardly shake the captain's hand. Captain Kirk greeted each of them warmly and then asked the visitors if they would like a tour of the camp.

"Sure, yes, yes James T. Kirk. We will see the camp. And then we will eat. We have come for dinner." Spand licked his teeth and grinned at his sons. They all repeated the action, six slender tongues caressing pointy teeth and hissing happily. They had a great many teeth, and they all were very sharp. The licking, combined with the eager way they looked at the crew made Ziem think of lizards hunting. She looked over to the chief; he didn't seem bothered by the display. Ziem reminded herself again that appearance had nothing to do with intent. Around her, all seven members of the clan Truleyphadru pushed eagerly into the camp.

The captain turned to Uhura, and threw her a questioning glance.

"It is very common in their culture to share a meal. It is recognized as an opportunity to build relationships and to assess the possessions of each other. Do you ever read any of the materials I send you?" The lieutenant whispered.

"Never mind that now. How are they going to feel about us handing them their very own plate of rations?" the captain whispered back.

"Um, it is customary to offer your best to guests. This is a very appearance conscious society. But they are always looking for new things, to add to what they have or know. If they haven't seen the self-heating technology they might even enjoy it. We really don't have any choice." Lt. Uhura said quickly.

Kirk turned to Tremaine. "Get all the rations out, try to arrange them, I don't know, party like. Just do what you can. I will give them a tour and then we will eat."

"Yes sir." The yeoman said, she left quickly.

"Gentlemen," called the captain, "have you ever seen a self-setting tent?"

The captain gave the tour. He made a computer, some tents, three fire pits, the laundry lines, and some leveled areas left by other work groups seem far more exciting than they were. The guests showed genuine interest in only twice. They liked the tent where the anti grav sleds were parked, still loaded with supplies. They were so enthusiastic that as they prepared to move on captain quietly ordered Mr. Rudolph to remain in the tent and see that nothing left it. Later, they had an odd response to seeing the map. Hearing what it was, all six sons began to pace around it, stroking the computer and laughing. The oldest asked the captain if it was full of good information, assured that it was, they all began to repeat the phrase. They laughed and told their father that the computer was full of good information. Spand ignored them at first, but eventually lost his temper and snapped at the closest son-literally tried to bite him. The son squealed and jumped back. The tour continued, the young Phadruans bringing up the rear.

The group made their way slowly to the main area of the camp. Yeoman Tremaine had enlisted Ensign Chekov to help her. They had set up a camp table covered with what was probably the ensign's waterproof blanket. She had arranged the ration packets pleasingly and had sterilized and refilled all the crew's water bottles. She had little packets of flavoring by them so that each diner could make their beverage interesting in their own way. She had arranged some twigs and grass as a centerpiece. Ziem was impressed that it looked so well in such a short time.

Tremaine, Chekov and Hendorff stood behind the table. The captain gestured expansively to the preparations.

"We have only very simple travel food, but we are pleased to share it with representatives of the clan that has agreed to allow us to use their homeland for our factory. May our cooperation speed the process and useful works begin soon." He said grandly. Uhura smiled at him approvingly.

The sons jumped towards the table. Their father snarled at them to wait. He looked over at Captain Kirk and asked, "You allow your servants to watch us eat? You still fear us? We have given the Federation permission to build on our land, what else must we do to demonstrate our trustworthiness? You sadden me James T. Kirk."

"My servants?" asked the captain of Uhura. She shrugged and turned to Spand.

"It is not customary to have help at the table?" she asked.

"It is not customary to make a guest maintain dignity while he eats!" sputtered the little being, looking accusingly at the group behind the table.

"These are not really my servants," began the captain.

"It's alright sir." said the yeoman.

"We could go and…join the other servants." suggested Chekov.

"They will need an escort though. Security and all," said Hendorff.

"Go." said the captain with a sigh. The three slipped away. Ziem noticed Chekov avoided looking at Lapinski, who smirked at him.

"Shall we eat?" asked the captain. He led the guests to the table.

The clan members went to it with gusto. As Uhura had suggested, they enjoyed the self-heating rations containers very much, and eventually opened them all. Their table manners were not Federation standard. What they didn't like they dropped and reached over it to grab something else to try instead. This meant they actually ate very little. They did drink a great deal. They used up all the sprinkles and then began to add to the water from an animal skin pouch the youngest brother carried. They did not offer any of the liquid to the crew. It seemed to make them even more talkative. They turned their faces away from the translator to laugh and hiss among themselves. Occasionally they all seemed to agree that something they said was profoundly funny. They would look around for Lieutenant Uhura and repeated it. They would shout their thoughts at her, and then wait while her translator shared it with the crew. They would wait for the crew to laugh too. Sometimes they seemed disappointed in the response and the captain would try to seem more enthusiastic. Even when they did not enjoy the Phadruan humor, Martin and Lapinski did seem to appreciate Mr. Spock watching the captain pretend to laugh.

Ziem did not join the feast, as she was on duty. The chief held a plate, but did not eat, instead he watched the party intently. Sascheja did the same, although Ziem doubted it was a sense of responsibility that made her unwilling to join in. The filth connected with the visitors tasting and rejecting would have worried most medical professionals. Lieutenant Uhura tried to eat, but she was interrupted by requests to translate and interpret so often that Ziem was not certain that she actually swallowed anything. She seemed to enjoy the enthusiastic chaos of sharing a meal on Phadru. The captain, Lapinski, Martin, and Rudolph also seemed to find the guests amusing. Commander Spock stood throughout the feast. He was, as always, composed. But not Ziem noticed, entirely impassive. Every tossing of a plate, dumping of food, or appreciative burp resulted in an eyebrow twitch. Their guests remained oblivious to his discomfort, and continued to enjoy themselves. Gradually it grew darker.

When everything was opened, and all the water was drunk, Spand and his sons looked around expectantly.

"Is that all?" Spand asked.

"Well, as I mentioned, we weren't expecting guests. We try and not pack more than we assume we will need. It helps keep us focused on the mission, which is of course getting everything ready to start your smelter." The captain had referred several times to the project during the meal with Spand and his family. Every time he did, the mood of the visitors seemed to skyrocket. They would laugh sibilantly to each other and rub their hands together.

"Good idea James T. Kirk." Spand said. "Still, we should have decent meal. If this is best you can offer only one solution seems available. You will have a visit to our clan. Even in our current near destitution, we will feed you good. You will remember us, and see how important it is that the Federation stop playing, and get that factory built. After you come to love the Truleyphadru you will see to it that the Federation stops creating excuses and starts building."

Spand's sons nodded enthusiastically. A few applauded their father's obviously rehearsed speech.

"Wait, are you saying you want us to come for dinner? You mean tomorrow?" the captain sounded surprised. He looked at Uhura who shrugged lightly. He said, "I don't think that will work out. We have a pretty specific timeline, and we really need to stick to it. We wouldn't want to slow down construction." Ziem suspected he was not as regretful as he sounded.

"Hah!" said Spand. "Have underlings do it. You come have decent meal and meet clan. Bring your woman and the wonderful, strange fellow." He gestured toward Commander Spock. Looking over at Ziem he added, "Maybe not the giantess. There are so many children at the compound; we don't want to scare them." Ziem felt herself begin to blush.

"I will make my own decisions about which of my valued crew members will accompany me." the captain snapped.

"Excellent, then we agree you will come. I will take my sons and two crafts to prepare for your arrival. I will leave one servant and the third craft to bring you to us." Spand did not seem resentful of the captain's tone.

"I am not agreeing to come, I need to talk to my officers," began the captain.

"Oh," Spand said. He shut his eyes as if he were in pain and continued, "I thought you were a galactic hero and big boss who made your own decisions James T. Kirk." The translator made his tone a little mocking. "If that is true, decide. Here are the facts: you can come to our home and enjoy a fine meal, or you can stay here and insult our clan. Either way we will be prepared for you as the sun sinks tomorrow."

Spand turned tail and marched in the direction of the vehicles. His sons followed closely behind, several still hissing and clapping. The captain turned to Uhura and threw his hands out, clearly uncertain what to do next.

"Go after them and make some sort of specific agreements for the visit. Act like you always intended to agree to go." she said. "We can't afford to insult them."

Sighing, the captain trudged after their guests. Most of the rest of the party followed behind. Ziem took a look around before she brought up the rear. They had left quite a mess. She wondered if she would be one of the servants cleaning up after the party.

Chapter 11  
A Conference, Late Night, the Second Day

Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Commander Giotto sat around the fire. Ziem stood off to the side, trying desperately to be unobtrusive, suspecting that she was failing. She was still on duty, and so responsible for the camp. With both-actually all, the senior officers in one location standard procedure was to keep them in line of vision. She was uncomfortable because they were clearly deep in a discussion, and she was forced to overhear it. She felt like the biggest, hulking, most obvious eavesdropper ever.

If the men in the discussion hadn't been the captain, her immediate commanding officer, and the first officer of the ship, she would have called their discussion an argument. The captain had clearly decided to make the best out of being manipulated into visiting the Truleyphadru family compound. He wanted Mr. Spock to accompany him. Mr. Spock objected, because he wished to finish the work he had begun. The chief objected to either of them going. All three men had stated their position several times. Both the humans had begun to get quite rather heated in their objections. Mr. Spock was, as always, calm, but he did not vary from his stated goal of staying to finish his primary assignment.

"Captain, it is extremely difficult to provide you with adequate security when you insist upon going into unknown territories. You have given the Phadruans time to prepare for your arrival, but they could just as well be setting a trap, gathering weapons, notifying unfriendlies, doing any number of things for which we will be absolutely unprepared. I must most strenuously encourage you to avoid this needless risk." The chief's strained tone told Ziem he was having trouble saying so little.

The captain answered in a voice far less jovial than it had been half an hour earlier. "Lieutenant Commander, as I have said, I understand and appreciate your objections. However, Lieutenant Uhura assures me that many previous work parties visited the local people. There were never any incidents of violence. I do not wish to go, but I am tasked with finishing these studies so that this refinery can be built. If we insult these beings anything could happen. They could deny us access to their land. They could call off the entire deal. I doubt it, but it could happen. At this point I am not discussing the decision to go to the compound. I am open to discussing who gets to take a few hours off and who will stay here and work. And Spock, you're with me."

"Captain," began Mr. Spock again, as unemotional as he had been when the discussion began.

"Spock. You are with me." The captain sounded like he was finished discussing it. Ziem thought that under any other circumstances the chief would have approved.

"Very well Captain." Spock replied, and Ziem thought that he sounded slightly different. She couldn't say angry. She could say different.

"I am thinking, you, me, Uhura, my yeoman," The captain counted on his fingers as he spoke.

"Tremaine" said Spock and Giotto together.

"Thank you, Tremaine, Chekov, and someone from security." The captain finished up confidently.

"There will be two someones from security. I will go and I will take Hendorff. We will be heavily armed. We will not be removing our sidearms no matter what the local traditions call for. That leaves Rudolph and Sabide with Wilson, Sascheja, Martin, and Lapinski." said Giotto.

"Captain, if I may suggest," began Mr. Spock. "Ensign Chekov has been required to perform significant maintenance on all of the tricorders, because of," here he paused. More formal than the humans in the crew, he seemed to be having trouble bringing himself to mention the specific problem with the tricorders, "the difficulties associated with the local birds. He has also been successful in assisting Mr. Wilson when the main frame experienced...similar difficulties. As he is consistently reliable in all his efforts, I believe it would be logical to leave him here to continue his work."

"Are you trying to say you think he's the only one capable of cleaning bird shit off a screen?" asked the captain.

"His work has been essential to the mission." Mr. Spock said.

Captain Kirk continued, "Or are you saying you trust him to actually do what he is supposed to without supervision?" The captain sounded teasing again. Clearly the senior officers accepting his decision had improved his mood. "Think though, he is both entertaining and observant. Both useful qualities, and I don't want to leave him behind."

"Captain," Mr. Spock began, but the captain continued as if he hadn't heard.

"I mean, yes, he's totally reliable. He's got this weird ability to be right where you need him to be, even before you know you need him. Though it does make more work when he eventually trips and impales himself on someone's prized national icon. But until then, you're right, he's always good to go."

"Captain, I am not aware that Ensign Chekov has ever done anything of that nature." said Mr. Spock, sounding Ziem thought, very slightly confused.

"Well, maybe not yet, but we all know he will at some point, and he's done plenty of other things. The boy is clumsy, there is no denying it. Still, he's always much more entertaining than either Martin or Lapinski. If the dinner gets long I can always watch him trying to think of ways to get rid of whatever they're serving without putting it in his mouth. That never gets old." Ziem thought it was possible the captain was enjoying confusing the first officer.

"We could leave the ensign and the yeoman, thereby taking a smaller group into the compound." suggested Mr. Giotto, he didn't sound hopeful.

The captain threw his arms out expansively and said, "Gentlemen, we will compromise. We leave the ensign, and take the yeoman. I'll call the ship and update them on our plans. We will leave tomorrow at 1100 hours, which means Mr. Spock can do a few more hours of work before we take our diplomatic break."

"Very well Captain." said Spock. And "Yes sir." said Giotto at the same time. Neither of them sounded nearly as pleased with the arrangement as their commanding officer did.

"Hey Ziem!" Hendorff called out with his usual enthusiasm. Ziem jumped a bit in surprise. She glanced at the chrom on her tricorder and was surprised to see the shift was changing. She had been concentrating on the conversation at the fire and hadn't noticed the time. The other officers heard him too.

"Hendorff, get over here and debrief." barked the chief.

"Yes sir." said Hendorff, saluting as he ambled over. He paused, frowning as he gathered his thoughts. He had told Ziem that he hated reporting directly to the chief. He thought he had trouble organizing his reports into the brief, logical presentation the chief preferred. Ziem had heard him report, she agreed. She smiled encouragingly at him over the heads of the three senior officers. He smiled back and began.

"I went over to the vehicles like you said. Ensign Chekov and Yeoman Tremaine went too. We stopped and got that universal translator they left in the sand, but other than that we went right on over."

"And?" asked the chief. He sounded less curt than was usual, and Ziem wondered if perhaps he knew how much he knew how intimidating he could be.

"Well it's lucky we got that machine because when we got over to where the three guys, the uh, servants were, they were cooking and they asked if we wanted to eat with them and we did. So we sat and visited with them some"

"Mr. Hendorff, did you eat the native food without analyzing it?" Mr. Spock interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, I mean no. Okay, what I mean is, yes sir, we ate it, but also no sir, it was analyzed. Pav, that is, Ensign Chekov scanned it. He said it was fine. It was some sort of plant root. They boiled them. It looked like skinny potatoes, and it tasted like potatoes too. Mr. Chekov made them show him the plant, turns out it's all over around here. And don't worry sir. I would probably be dead by now if it was poisonous, I ate like fifty." Geoff was quickly descending into conversational. Ziem frowned, trying to remind him to make a more formal presentation; she doubted that the argument with the captain had left the chief any tolerance for a ramble.

"Many toxins are slow acting, taking days to reach..." Mr. Spock began, but the chief interrupted him.

"Hendorff, did you have any conversations with the natives?" said Giotto.

"Oh, yeah, let's see. They didn't have any of our stuff in their crafts. We checked it out. We just asked if we could see the vehicles and they said sure. Bethie, uh, that is Yeoman Tremaine, basically asked them if they were planning to steal anything. Kind of embarrassing, I thought, but they didn't seem to mind. They said they had looked around, and that we didn't have anything they don't already have, so they doubted it. Anyway, so then we ate. And they were drinking, and they started getting bold, badmouthing the Federation, the project, pretty much everything. They weren't threatening though, just rude. Eventually they started in on the ship. They were like; they had higher expectations of the famous Enterprise. They basically said all the other work crews that had been here had been better supplied. Since we didn't even have anything they wanted to steal, they doubted the Enterprise could be too amazing." Geoff started to laugh softly. The officers waited for him to go on, but he didn't.

"Hendorff!" warned the chief.

"What happened next?" The captain asked.

"Don't get mad, but to be honest, the next thing they started in on was you sir." McCallister nodded to the captain and continued. "They said they had heard you were impressive but having seen you they didn't think so. Then Pav tried to explain to them how you're a hero, and that you saved the universe, and you are amazing and etcetera, etcetera."

The captain started to laugh, "I am amazing etcetera, etcetera? Did Chekov actually say that?"

Geoff said, "No sir, I did. That means I can't remember what all Pav said, but it was a lot. It didn't matter though. They just kept saying stuff about if you were that great you would have better clothes. No matter what Pav said they kept going back to the fact that you were dressed not that good. Uh, that's just in their opinion sir. I actually think you look fine."

"Thank you Hendorff." said the captain with mock seriousness.

"You're welcome sir," Geoff said with a smile. Ziem was embarrassed for him.

Chief Giotto gave Hendorff a stern look which brought him back to his task. He cleared his throat and said, "So anyway. Then one started in on how your tent wasn't even decorated, and Pav lost it. He was so mad he couldn't even remember to speak in Standard. But the universal translator did the job on Russian too. So he's ranting at them by this point, and they were like, "Well if he were so great he could get a decent shirt." I tell you, that Pav really can swear for such a quiet guy. It was hilarious."

Ziem was mortified for Geoff. The captain was actually laughing. The chief surprised her by not yelling. He even looked slightly amused. Only Mr. Spock seemed to be taking the report seriously.

"Did the local people appear to be angered by Mr. Chekov's outburst?" asked the first officer.

Geoff said, "No not at all. In fact I got the impression they liked him more than either me or Beth. They told him that The Old Man, that's what they call their boss, The Old Man, had promised all his wives he was going to get the famous James T. Kirk to come to dinner and to start calling all the relatives. They told Pav he should try to get assigned to the entourage, because the food was going to be great even in the servant's area. Pav told them he had absolutely no interest in eating with such a stupid bunch of people. Burri, which is the name of the tallest one of them, Burri, said it was interesting that Pav wasn't letting his opinion of them keep him from doing a pretty good job of eating all their supplies. Since we each had a plate full of those roots at the time we couldn't really disagree. So Pav said, very serious like, that the only way he could bring himself to endure their company, was if he had something important to think about, something like fried potatoes. They all laughed at that, it really cut the tension. And right now he's teaching Burri to play poker, so I doubt there was any real problem. I think they just like to try and provoke people."

"Anyway," Geoff continued, "after the other two left we told Burri he could sleep in the tent with us so we could keep an eye on him, but he says he has to stay with the craft. I think he thinks we might steal it!" Hendorff shook his head and snorted derisively. Then he added, "Ensign Chekov told him fine, we will just stay there with him, and play some cards. So don't worry Chief. He's not stealing anything tonight." Geoff saluted again and stood at attention, apparently considering his report finished.

"At ease, Hendorff." said the chief with a sigh. His mouth was oddly twisted, like he was trying to hide a smile.

The captain cleared his throat and said to Giotto, "I think we're all set for tomorrow. I will notify the ship of the change of plans."

Giotto nodded and said, "I need to go find Rudolph and run through my expectations for tomorrow. He does better when I have been clear with him. Then I will get him to help me check supplies and make sure we are ready to go." Turning to Geoff he added, "Go get some rest, I will take this watch. You're going to the compound tomorrow with me, and I want you to be ready for anything."

Geoff responded with an enthusiastic "Yes sir," saluted, and ambled off in the direction from where he had come. Giotto and Kirk watched him go in silence until he was out of sight. Then the captain turned to the chief and raising both eyebrows, looked at him expectantly.

Giotto sighed and said, "It may be hard to imagine when you listen to him give a report, but he's actually quite competent. He's level headed, brave, follows orders. Maybe not the guy to go to for subtlety, but he never quits in a fight, and the rest of it, we are working on.

"Good in a fight and not subtle, yes, that sounds like the Cupcake I know and love," the captain said. Ziem wondered what he meant.

The chief tossed his head and said, "I would take ten of him over some of the trigger happy show offs I get from OTS."

"No, no, I totally get it," continued the captain. "I was just thinking that it is not fair that you get to take your most entertaining division member, but I don't get to take mine."

Ziem was surprised when the chief laughed. She was even more surprised when he said, "Sir, I am happy to share. You can spend all day tomorrow having him report on everything without hesitation or analysis."

"Etcetera, etcetera." said the captain.

Chapter 12  
Morning, the Third Day

Ziem arose early and had a fire made and coffee started when her crew members joined her. People ate slowly, and there wasn't much visiting. It was hot already, and Ziem thought most everyone was dreading another day of monotonous work in the sun. Mr. Spock stood stoically at the edge of the group. Without saying anything, he somehow made it clear he was eager to get to work. The crew, Ziem noticed, avoided looking at him, and instead sat and chewed quietly with their heads down.

She sat between Geoff and Chekov, staring at her empty tray and wondering if she could possibly endure getting up and taking another in front of everyone. Burri, the Phadruan driver sat on Chekov's other side, enjoying his third serving. He chewed noisily and complained about the small portions. Chekov looked up from his own nearly untouched meal and suggested going to dig potatoes when, well off to the side of the group, there was the whine and swirling yellow lights that meant a transporter was in action. Giotto jumped up, and Ziem started to, but before she could rise the slender figure of Doctor Leonard McCoy materialized. His expression was decidedly unhappy.

"Bones!" said the captain. "Nice to see you, but what are you doing here? Didn't you have vital, essential broom closets to reorganize?"

"Not funny, kid. Yes, I have lots to do, but from what I hear I am needed right here. Sulu filled me in on your little plan to go visit some alien headquarters. I don't trust you to go anywhere without managing to get hurt, sick, torn apart, or poisoned. You need a full time medical escort at all times. And I didn't want Sascheja to have to neglect the care of everyone else in this team just because you take it into your fool head to go gallivanting off to the great unknown with no notice or forethought." The doctor sounded angry to Ziem, but the captain smiled the whole time he was talking like it was a great joke.

No one in the party seemed very interested in the doctor's arrival, except Mr. Giotto, who nodded and smiled grimly at the doctor's words, and Ensign Chekov, who looked anxious when he heard the doctor's voice. He leaned over to Ziem and whispered urgently, "Miss Sabide, would you please switch plates with me?"

"What?" asked Ziem.

"Just do me this favor, please? Switch plates with me." He held out his nearly full rations packet, shielding it from the doctor's view as he did so.

Still uncertain she understood him, Ziem handed him her empty tray and took his full one. He smiled his thanks and went back to playing with his spoon, running it nervously around the empty tray.

The doctor continued to complain as he followed the captain over to the supply table. "You refuse to recognize the dangers inherent in these expeditions, you don't give your own security teams time to adequately research your...," the doctor paused in front of Ziem, looked suspiciously at Chekov and said, "Well you gobbled that right down. Enjoy your breakfast?"

"Oh yes sir." The ensign looked first at the empty plate he held, and then up at the doctor and smiled angelically.

McCoy looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Good, because I know what you think about the ration packs, and I would hate to think that you are avoiding my specific instructions, disobeying my direct orders, to eat while you're out here." Chekov said nothing, but continued to smile at the doctor. After a few more seconds with no response, the doctor said crankily, "You're pink. Go have Sascheja give you another hypo to prevent sunburn. Some people shouldn't be allowed out in full sun." The doctor's frown suggested the ensign was purposely pale.

"Yes sir, right away." said the young man, jumping up.

The doctor turned to Ziem. "Eat up Sabide. You are going to need your strength out there protecting these people, each more determined than the last to find new ways to hurt themselves."

"Yes sir." said Ziem; she looked down at Chekov's cold food. Then she looked at the ensign, uncertain about what he would want her to do, but he refused to meet her eyes. The doctor glared at her and crossed his arms. He seemed decided to wait until she ate the food. Although she was still hungry, and she didn't mind the taste at all, the idea of taking someone else's food was embarrassing. But she was unable to think of an alternative, so reluctantly she stuck her fork in the vegetarian eggs. Her first few bites seemed to satisfy the doctor. He returned his attention and his complaints to the captain, who had watched the whole interaction with a knowing grin. Ziem thought he too was trying to get the ensign to catch his eye, but Chekov avoided it, kept his innocent expression and looked around as if searching for the nurse. Spotting Sascheja by the tents, he scampered off, leaving his breakfast to Ziem.

The next few hours were frenzied. Giotto sent Rudolph into the field with Spock and the junior officers. He gave Geoff responsibility for guarding the camp and watching Burri, the Phadruan driver. He told Ziem to repack a sled with supplies from a list he sent her PADD, while he inspected the Phadruan vehicle himself. He equipped it with a homing device so that their journey could be monitored, and checked it for weapons. With Burri distracted, he spent some time figuring out how to drive it in case the need arose. Finally, he surprised Ziem very much by telling her that she would be in charge of security at the base camp while he was gone.

Giotto said, "I don't anticipate you will have any real problems. This whole project seems to be pretty much as advertised. Be very clear with Rudolph about what his responsibilities are, and don't assume he will be able to handle anything independently. If you actually have any real trouble, he will be fine; it's the day to day stuff he doesn't do well with. I don't think the crew will give you any trouble. The captain is leaving Lapinski in charge, not my pick, but probably not worse than Martin. Remember that he doesn't outrank you, he's in charge of the mission, but you're in charge of crew safety. And if you are concerned about anything, do whatever you think necessary to keep them safe. If that means calling the ship for emergency transport, so be it. Don't think about the gear, or the work, just get the crew out of here. If you don't hear from us, or for any reason you grow concerned, get the crew aboard the ship and search from there."

"Thank you sir, I will do my best." Ziem was irritated, but not surprised when she began to blush.

"I have a lot of faith in you Sabide," said the chief. "My worries aren't about you at all."

Promptly at 10:50 Mr. Spock returned to camp followed by the officers, who all looked hot, tired, and frustrated. They were followed by a chagrined looking Rudolph. Ziem assumed he had received one of Mr. Spock's infamous reprimands. She wondered briefly what he had done to deserve it, with Rudolph there were many possibilities. But she was too busy to ask. Mr. Giotto had her pack the Phadruan vehicle.

By 10:59, Captain Kirk, Yeoman Tremaine, Lieutenant Uhura, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Giotto, Geoff, and Burri the driver were standing by, ready to leave for the compound and the dinner party. Mr. Spock, very surprisingly, was not. He had wanted to change prior to leaving, as the birds had again been around the work crew. Finally, Ziem saw him walking toward the vehicle. He was deep in conversation with Ensign Chekov, who looked thoughtful, and Lieutenant Lapinski, who looked bored.

"Let's go Commander, our host is waiting!" called the captain. His spirits seemed excellent. Clearly he was eager to take a break from surveying.

Spock walked to the group, continuing to speak quietly with the two young men until he was almost at the door of the vehicle. Burri pressed something and the wall slid back to admit the Starfleet team.

"I am ready Captain." said Spock. He climbed in without pausing or acknowledging the rest of them. The doctor followed him in, but immediately popped back out.

"Jim, there's no chairs in here. What are we supposed to do, stand like cows going to slaughter, or throw ourselves on the ground like it's a hay ride?"

"It'll be fine Bones. Whatever the local custom is right?" the captain was still outside the cart, holding out his arm to assist his beaming yeoman into the vehicle. He offered his arm to the communications officer, but she gave him a cold look and jumped in herself.

Through the universal translator Lieutenant Uhura carried, Ziem heard Burri, the driver, say to himself, "I toured the entire camp, and not one chair did I see, rocks only. But now James T. Kirk and the crew of the illustrious starship Enterprise must sit in chairs in the cart. They wish to be treated like maidens on their way to a wedding. Ha. They do not fool me. They are not used to luxury. They can sit on the floor like normal people."

The captain heard too, he laughed and called into the cart, "Hear that Bones! It's a hay ride!" he looked back at the group around the vehicle and said, "Lapinski, you're in charge. We will check in at least every three hours, and we plan to be back late tonight. Have fun people!" and with that he jumped into the brightly decorated cart. The door clanged shut. The vehicle whined a little as its engine started, and then it rose out of the sandy ground and drove away, first making a large circle and then heading off as its companions had the previous day.

The remaining crew members watched until the bright cart disappeared in the glare of the noonday sun. Ziem was not afraid of the planet, or of her new responsibilities, but her little group seemed to have grown small and rather lonely. She almost wished she had Geoff's job, riding off to see new people and places rather than facing another day in the dirty survey camp with her crew consisting of the quiet ensign, the quieter geologist, the interchangeable lieutenants, the schoolmarm like nurse, and her often inappropriate underling.

When the cart was out of sight Ensign Chekov turned to Lieutenant Lapinski and asked, "Shall we go back to the field now? Or was there something else you wanted us to do first?"

"First I am eating lunch, and then I am waiting for it to cool down a little before I go back to work." the lieutenant said.

"Mr. Spock," began the ensign.

"Yeah, I heard Mr. Spock too." the lieutenant said dismissively, "I was standing right next to you. And I also heard Dr. McCoy this morning when he said we should avoid being out in the sun when it's too hot. I am choosing to follow his medical advice. I am not ordering you to do the same, but make sure you remember that I could do so." Lapinski smiled coolly at the younger man, who looked a little taken aback.

"Yes sir. I understand." the ensign said quietly. Ziem was very surprised by Lieutenant Lapinski's decision. She tried to read Chekov's expression. He wasn't surprised, she thought, more resigned? She wasn't sure.

"Lapinski, I'm not sure that's a good idea. This is a very important project and the work won't get done unless we take advantage of the daylight to do it. We've got plenty of water. I think we should stick to the original plan." Wilson, the geologist, looked flustered as he spoke. Ziem wondered if he was really upset with Lapinski's decision, or if was the stress of speaking that had him so nervous. She was certain she hadn't heard him say anything else since they left the ship.

"We won't take the whole day off, waiting a few hours for it to cool down won't dramatically affect the outcome one way or the other. We can eat an early dinner and work more this evening when it's cooler." Lapinski folded his arms and looked confidently at the older man. Wilson looked anxious, and definitely unconvinced, but he did not argue any more.

"We are not," began Chekov.

"Did I ask for your insights Ensign?" asked Lapinski.

"No sir." Chekov said quietly.

"Then don't even think about sharing them."

Lapinski looked at the little group, waiting for someone else to try to convince him to change his mind. When no one said anything, he smiled, and nodded, and said, "Good, let's go get lunch then." He began to walk back toward the supply tables, looking, Ziem thought, very pleased with his first command decision.

Lapinski grabbed a rations pack, and sat in the best of the sparse shady spots. Wilson walked over to the computer that displayed the map. Chekov joined him, and picking up the tricorder he had used that morning in the field with Spock, began to fidget with it. As he checked the machine, Chekov kept looking speculatively at Lapinski, who was now chatting happily with Martin and Rudolph. Chekov looked at the tricorder and then at Lapinski several more times before apparently reaching a decision. He held his tricorder up and snapped a picture of the map, and then carried the unit over to Lapinski. He stood at attention a little to the side of the group, waiting to be acknowledged.

"What?" asked Lapinski.

"Sir, I have a favor to ask of you." Chekov said quietly.

"Which is?"

"Do you mind if, instead of sticking to the original plan and working in north to south laying plots, I work in an east to west one?" Chekov held up the tricorder, which displayed a small copy of the map. The paths he was discussing were lit up. Lapinski took the tricorder and studied it.

"I can't believe you would be willing to change your hero Mr. Spock's logical, preordained plan. Seems very un-worshipful disciple like of you." said Lapinski.

"Yes sir. Ordinarily I wouldn't, but Mr. Spock designed the plots to separate the workers over the greatest possible area. As our group is so much smaller now, I think it will not be necessary to be so careful to avoid duplication as it once was. Working from east to west, all the work groups will intersect the river several times each day. It is cooler by the water. As you said, it is quite hot today. It will be good to have opportunities to cool down regularly as we work." Chekov paused while Lapinski studied the map. He added, "We can switch back to the original plan when Mr. Spock returns. We will have shortened the north/south corridors, but we will not have dramatically altered them."

"Yeah, I imagine you will go right back to Mr. Spock's original plan and somehow you'll never get around to mentioning that you didn't think enough of it to stick with it when he was gone. You're sneaky Chekov, I knew there had to be some explanation for your success." Lapinski didn't look up from the map as he spoke, and his tone was the mocking, condescending one he seemed to reserve just for the ensign.

Chekov opened his mouth, Ziem thought he was going to argue, but he must have had second thoughts, because he said nothing. He just stood and waited, until Lapinski handed him the tricorder.

"If you are determined to get sunstroke, go ahead. And walk whatever way you want. But you're on your own; I don't think anyone is going to go with you." Lapinski sounded disinterested, but not antagonistic.

Chekov looked at Martin, who looked a little chagrined, but said, "Sorry, Pav, I'll go out later with Tim. It's just too hot."

Rudolph laughed and said, "I'm going to fulfill my duties as a security officer and carefully watch these two lose all their money to me in a poker game."

"Enjoy your dreams Rudolph; the reality is going to be different." Lapinski said.

"Stay and play Pav," laughed Martin. "You've always got money."

"Thank you, later." said Chekov, who was now looking questioningly at Wilson.

"I think it would be better if I stayed here. I'm going to rerun the data we've collected so far. Because of the, discrepancies." said Wilson apologetically.

No one had asked her if she planned to work, but Sascheja volunteered in her instructing voice, "I am going to side with the majority on this decision. It is quite hot, and I do not like the sun. I believe the ensign is correct in his interpretation of the orders, and do feel somewhat guilty doing so. But I am technically not even part of this work party, and if the real members aren't going, I don't think I will. If it cools down later, I am willing to go out for a few hours then."

Ziem found the medical officer irritating, and could tell by the lieutenants' expressions that they did too. She tried to control her reaction, reminding herself it wasn't the Venzi woman's fault that her standard was so formal; she had probably learned it as an adult, maybe at the academy. Many crew members were not really fluent outside their work areas. But Sascheja always sounded as if she resented being forced to simplifying herself for not very bright listeners.

"Alright," the ensign fussed with the cover on the tricorder and then turned to go. "I will be back at 1800 hours."

Ziem stood up, "Where are we starting from? I need to log it in."

The little ensign stopped and grinned up at her. "Are you going to come with me?"

"I am your security escort. I have to go." She answered.

"See Pav, you're dragging poor Sabide out in this heat too. Just stay here and both of you can lose your money to me." Martin wheedled. The ensign looked worriedly up at Ziem.

"No, I wish to go. I planned to go." Ziem tried to think of the right way to say it. Finally she said, "I believe it is my responsibility to go." She gave Rudolph a meaningful gaze, but instead of feeling recalled to duty, he laughed and ignored her.

Chekov however, gave her a very grateful look, and asked hopefully, "Do you wish to carry a tricorder?"

"I would, honestly, I would if I could. But Mr. Giotto has been very specific about us not assisting with the survey work." Ziem said.

"Just so you know Ziem, he's not here, and I'm not going to tell him, so he wouldn't ever know. If you are going to go drag around in the desert for six hours you might as well be useful." Rudolph said.

Ziem flushed. She felt torn. She agreed with Rudolph. It was unnecessarily cautious for her to spend the next six hours watching the ensign work, but she had never deliberately disobeyed any order before. Dozing off yesterday made her want to be exemplary for the remainder of the assignment. But she could tell by their expressions that the young men all thought she was being overly fastidious.

"I am sorry," she said, "I can't." Rudolph and Martin chuckled like she was an old joke, and Lapinski looked at her with outright scorn. She knew that as soon as she walked away they would all be laughing at her. She hated that feeling. Her resolve was weakening when she felt a tug at her sleeve. She looked down. Chekov smiled up at her.

"I forgot what Mr. Giotto said. You should not disobey him. If you did, I would not be able think of my work. I would stare out into space lost in guilt and waste all the afternoon. You should do what you know is right and both of us will be happier." Ziem felt a little better.

Lapinski snorted derisively, but Rudolph said, "Pav, only you would say it helps you out for her to do absolutely nothing." He turned to the two lieutenants and said, "And the thing is, he seem like he honestly believes it. Really, it's kind of inspiring. He almost makes me feel guilty. Not guilty enough to go drag a tricorder around in this heat, but almost."

"Sure it does." said Lapinski.

"Well, okay, honestly, not even really even close to almost, but a little, and that is pretty good." said Rudolph with a smile and a nod to the ensign.

Chekov laughed. "Thank you, I think. But when we come back I will be very hot, covered in bird shit, and hungry. You will not find me even a little inspiring then I don't think. So now Lieutenant Sabide, we should go to work or my fine speech will have been for nothing. I wish to leave Randy his good opinion of me as long as possible." He walked off towards the plots, still laughing to himself, and Ziem trudged after him, feet sinking again in the dusty Phadruan soil.

Chapter 13  
Afternoon, the Third Day

Chekov's expectations for the afternoon were correct. It was very hot. The sun glared down, and Ziem could feel the heat from the sandy ground through her boots. Their uniforms were designed to radiate heat away from their bodies, but the exposed skin of her face and hands felt tight and her lips and nose were uncomfortably dry. The birds were out in force, and Chekov gave up even trying to protect the tricorder, it was soon slick and dirty.

Ziem worked hard at following the protocols the chief had outlined for the mission. Feeling ridiculous, she circled around the parameter of the work party, in this case a single ensign playing on his PADD and mostly ignoring the tricorder slung around his neck until it signaled him to walk to the next stop. She scouted the horizon for trouble, and then doubled back to check in with him. He never had anything threatening to report. He would look up at her with a pleasant, expectant expression, but he never initiated conversation.

After her third silent pass through, Ziem reflected that the afternoon was going to go very slowly if they didn't exchange a word. She missed Lieutenant Uhura, who had chattered charmingly all the time they worked together. Somehow the communications officer had asked enough questions to get Ziem talking, and the time had gone quickly. As both she and the ensign were reserved, she was afraid it was possible that each would pass the entire day waiting for the other to speak. Faced with hours of silence, Ziem decided she must think of something to draw him into conversation.

Working her way back to the ensign, Ziem tried to remember how Lieutenant Uhura had gotten her to talk while they worked together. Somehow asking him to describe his home seemed a little forced to her. Uhura had seemed genuinely interested in Bahz, but Ziem doubted she could pretend the same about Earth. She knew nothing about chess or wall ball, and she knew none of his other interests.

Feeling a little desperate, when she came up again to the young man she shoved her tricorder in front of him and barked, "Do you want to see where the captain's caravan has traveled?"

Looking surprised, he nodded. Then he watched the trace's path on Ziem's tricorder, concentrating very intently until her hand got sore from holding the machine out for him. Finally he looked up and asked her to speculate on where the caravan would eventually end up. He listened gravely to her thoughts, and then he asked her to explain her reasoning. She talked until his tricorder signaled him to move on. She was surprised, and a little embarrassed, to realize how long she had gone on. She scurried off to survey the area for signs of danger. He called after her to hurry back, and it occurred to her that perhaps he too had been trying to think of something to say.

When she was scouting, and by herself, Ziem found herself replaying the rest of the crew's decision to play cards in the afternoon. She was very frustrated with Rudolph, although she knew that she was being irrational. Once the lieutenants had decided to stay at the base camp one member of security had needed to stay. She had not wanted it to be her. She was frustrated because Rudolph had been so comfortable with doing nothing. She understood how frustrated the chief have been. She wished one could demand attitude.

Three hours exactly after he had left, Lieutenant Commander Giotto called in. Ziem was standing by Ensign Chekov when her comm pinged. The chief sounded tense. Their group had not yet reached the Truleyphadru clan compound. The driver said it would still be several hours before they did. They had been treated courteously, and their situation was unchanged from their departure. In the background Ziem could hear the doctor speaking. She couldn't make out his words, but his tone implied he was not enjoying the trip. Within his own division, the chief did not tolerate complaining. Ziem tried to imagine the chief confined for three hours in what he considered a potentially dangerous trap, with unhappy, noisy travelers. She decided she preferred to be hot and bored with one friendly ensign.

When the chief asked, she told him she was providing security for a work party. She was going to give more details, but Chekov shook his head vigorously when she started to talk, and so she stopped and instead asked the chief about night time watches. The chief told her to follow protocol, and then promised to check in when they reached the compound, and signed off.

"Why didn't you want me to talk to him?" asked Ziem.

"I just didn't want you to tell him how small our crew is." replied Chekov.

"Why not? They will probably figure out you are the only one who went out today eventually. And maybe a message from the captain would get them back to work." Ziem didn't understand why he would protect the lieutenants.

"Not necessarily, and they will probably do some work this afternoon. Lieutenant Lapinski is not correct; we are already behind on this project. But we couldn't catch up even if all of them worked all day, so it isn't a catastrophe for them to take a short break. If the captain called the group and told them to get to work Lieutenant Lapinski would be very angry. I would prefer he not be. And I just do not wish to be responsible for causing difficulties for anyone when it is possible that it is not necessary." The ensign's tricorder pinged and he started to the next analysis site. Ziem walked beside him.

"I don't understand why you don't want to get Lapinski in trouble. I would." Ziem was thoughtful.

"Do you think Lieutenant Lapinski is so bad?" Chekov asked.

"I really do. I can't stop thinking about this." Ziem sighed. Chekov smiled at her.

"You are lucky then, because you can't have known many truly bad people. Lieutenant Lapinski just wants to show that he can give orders to me. Which of course he can, he outranks me. He could have ordered me to stay at the base camp, and then I would not have had this chance to enjoy a walk in the sun and to talk with you." As he spoke the ensign smiled but continued to play with his PADD.

"So this really doesn't bother you?" Ziem couldn't imagine, she had replayed the morning's conversation in her head almost all day.

"A lot of it bothers me. I do not like the heat, I really wish I had brought a change of clothes, and I hate those birds. But if you mean our crew members, then no, I don't care what they do," He paused and then added, "That is not correct, I do care, but I have no power to change their minds. I have enough problems with," here the ensign paused and seemed to search for the right words, "my peers, without being the one who tattles." He smiled shyly up at Ziem. "That is the right word? Tattles?"

"Yes, that's right." said Ziem. She paused and then added. "You are nicer than me."

Chekov shook his head. "I am a realist."

After another hour they came to the river. Chekov suggested they take a break and Ziem agreed. After carefully setting his equipment and boots on an embankment, Chekov jumped in fully dressed. He paddled around happily and encouraged her to try it. Ziem wanted to, and even began to remove her boots. But she kept imagining armed Phadruans appearing from behind the shrubs and killing them both. She knew she would never be able to relax enough to enjoy herself and gave up. She compromised by sitting on the bank and letting her feet dangle over the edge. She kept her phaser on her, but she did lay back and enjoy the water, which was warm, but much cooler than the air, and felt really good. After a while Chekov got out and rummaged in his pack. He lay down next to her and popped open a box of chocolate milk. He took a drink and then handed it to her. Water running off him soaked her uniform. Her skin got wet, first at her side where he lay against her, and then pooling at the small of her back. Considering they were both fully dressed, it felt oddly intimate. It made her feel a little excited, like she was doing something daring. She said nothing. They lay still, enjoyed being cool, and shared the milk.

Eventually he said wistfully, "Too bad is not beer."

Ziem smiled but didn't reply. She would never have agreed to drink alcohol while on duty. But she did like to imagine a picnic with the ensign on the riverbank. She thought how nice it would be to have a tablecloth and shade from tall trees. Instead they ate lunch with their feet in the river. Chekov insisted Ziem have his rations, she ate both packets while he ate cold vegetables he had saved from night before. He shared some candy Mac had left. It was melty, but Ziem thought the whole meal was wonderful.

Eventually they went back to work. Ziem checked the perimeters and Chekov restarted his survey. When she finished her inspection she headed back in towards him. They walked awhile in companionable silence. Ziem picked up rocks to shim at the next flock of birds they ran into. He continued to work on the PADD. Ziem watched, trying to tell what it is he was doing. It wasn't a game; it looked more like a report. There were charts, but more figures than words.

"What are you doing?" Ziem realized after she spoke that her tone sounded suspicious. The ensign must have thought so too, his answer was evasive.

"I am recording an analysis of a potential construction site on the planet Phadru." He smiled at Ziem but she thought his eyes were a little worried.

"No, I mean, what are you doing with your PADD?" Ziem tried to make herself sound nicer, more conversational, and not angry.

The ensign hesitated, he held the PADD in the crook of his right arm, while the fingers of his left hand drummed nervously against it for several seconds. Then he nodded his head and said, "Mr. Spock didn't say not to tell anyone. And besides, you are head of security while Mr. Giotto is gone. You should know. There is something odd about the information we are downloading, the information on the tricorders."

"What's that?" asked Ziem.

"On the first night we were planet side Mr. Spock asked me to check the map, it is the mainframe for this mission and he wanted to be sure there were no problems with the data. At first everything looked perfect. Everyone's data looked good. But as I looked at it, I realized I recognized some portions. It seemed to me identical to the information in the report I read before we came. And it shouldn't be, because the information in that report is an amalgamation of several earlier surveys. It can't be identical, because there never was any one day that was just like that."

"So I tried to think of some specific thing I could check for, to see if my information had made it into the computer. Do you remember that on the first day here I found a plant that wasn't on the original survey? I noticed it because it was so brightly colored, and seemed out of place in this desert. It is out of place, it is not a native plant. It must have grown from a seed on some earlier worker's shoe. The important thing is that when I looked for the information on that plant in the main computer, and I couldn't find it. And I knew that I had downloaded all the data from my own tricorder just an hour earlier. And the records showed that I had, but it was not in there. It was as if the computer overrode the new information with old information.

"I told Mr. Spock what I had observed. He had me check all the tricorders and he and Mr. Wilson reloaded all the data and it seemed it have worked, until the next day, because when we checked the files they had again reverted to the original ones."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Ziem said.

"Exactly," Chekov replied. "There does not seem to be any reason to tamper with the data. It isn't like it is going to make any difference to the plans for this area. We tried to think of reasons anyone would go to the trouble to eliminate our analysis. We couldn't think of many, but Mr. Spock had one idea. He suggested that perhaps all the data was corrupted. If this area was never suitable for the refinery, it is possible that some pro industry growth group organized themselves to make it appear that it was. It would mean that there was an elaborate plan from the very beginning to make this region appear other than it is. It would be a lot of work to accomplish something not very important, there were other areas they could have built the refinery. And it is unlikely; we have since learned that some of the original scans were done before the site had even been chosen."

Chekov paused, and then he said, "The illogic of the idea does not appeal to Mr. Spock at all, particularly since we see very little significant changes between the new data and the old, but it very difficult to think of any other possibilities. In the meantime, he had me send the data off the tricorders to a more secure file on the Enterprise. I am also to take some scans with my PADD, and to copy of some of the analysis my tricorder does. That way we will know if the defective program is in the tricorders or the mainframe."

"Can you do that?" asked Ziem.

"A tricorder is just a computer programmed for analysis. And a PADD is also a computer. It can be programmed to do anything any other computer can do. It doesn't have the sensors a tricorder has, or the memory, or the power. But it can be programmed to be a weak approximation. And my PADD is unusually powerful." He looked up at her out of the corners of his eyes, "I have personalized it to be more useful to me."

"Gamer." teased Ziem. He smiled but said nothing. They walked awhile longer. The ensign continued to tap on his PADD. Ziem mulled over the information she had been given. She tried to think of other reasons for the data corruption, but couldn't think of any.

"Who would be able to corrupt the memory banks on a computer?" asked Ziem.

Mr. Chekov looked at her with surprise. "Half the crew could do that. No, more than half, anyone who is a competent code writer could do it. The programs associated with this mission are not strongly protected, there didn't seem to reason to make them so. This is not vital work, and so many people will be involved in it would make it complicated to make it completely secure."

"Really? You could do that?" Ziem tended to think of all machines as equal and necessary evils. She had no interest in how they worked.

Chekov looked at her with surprise, "Oh easily. I could do it right now, from here using this PADD. And I could fix the problem too. And unless they were very good I might be able to trace the program back to its creator. But Mr. Spock believes it will be more useful to allow whomever it is to continue, so that we may eventually learn their purpose. So in the meantime, I have a great deal of data to back up."

They walked a little further and Ziem thought some more. It seemed impossible that the wasteland around her was the site of industrial intrigue. She tried to think of additional explanations for the changes in the computer programs, but she could not. She considered the crew members back at camp.

"Does Mr. Lapinski know?" asked Ziem.

Chekov nodded. "Mr. Spock explained the situation this morning."

"I can't believe he isn't doing more to help." Ziem was growing angrier as they spent more time in the hot sun.

"He can't really do anything. He does not have my highly specialized PADD." Chekov reminded her placidly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot your souped up PADD." said Ziem.

"Souped up?" Chekov looked up at her with a quizzical expression. "Like soup to eat?"

"Oh, that means made fancy, or you know, fixed up. People usually say it about machines, especially personal transports." Ziem started to blush, and Chekov grinned at her.

"I should have shown my PADD to the Phadruans last night." He said. "They might have thought we were more important if they realized I am the owner of a souped up PADD. Maybe given us more respect?"

"Maybe," laughed Ziem. "But I think for respect from them you are going to have to paint it gold and scarlet and maybe glue some feathers to it."

"And even then, I will still be Captain Kirk's servant, and not important. I guess I must just accept that I will never deserve the respect of Clan Truleyphadru, and somehow try to continue anyway." Chekov tried to look sad, but couldn't keep from smiling. Ziem laughed harder, until her comm pinged, and then she jumped to answer it. It was the chief.

"We are arrived." Giotto sounded tense. "Send these coordinates to the Enterprise so that they know where to look for us if things go south. And listen in, if you hear sounds of an attack when they open these doors get us support immediately."

He would have already contacted the ship himself. She realized he was using her as a backup, in case he was immediately incapacitated. In case, she thought, he died. She held the communicator tightly and listened. Chekov stood next to her and chewed his lip. Her stomach churned but she kept her demeanor professional. They could hear Geoff and the doctor in the background, Geoff giving instructions and the doctor objecting. The captain laughed, perhaps at something the doctor said? Their eyes met and they smiled at each other, because the captain was invincible, and that meant their friends would be fine.

They heard the whoosh of the vehicle door opening. They could hear the chief's exhalation when he jumped out of the cart. Security was always first on the ground. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then he called to Geoff, "Looks clear, bring 'em out."

Geoff's acknowledgement was lost in the sounds of the away team leaving the comparative safety of the vehicle. As the crew stepped out the noise level went up. They were clearly in a crowd. Ziem could hear many voices, but no words. Not understanding what they were hearing made it easy to hear anger and threats from what might very well be welcomes. But Ziem could imagine the team, surrounded by grinning Phadruans, inside a walled compound and under attack. She strained to hear the sounds of aggression, projectiles or phased energy, but all she could hear was excited chatter. She could feel her heart beat in her throat. She fought down the desire to call to the chief. She did not want to distract him from his work, but she desperately wanted to hear his analysis. She reminded herself to breathe.

"Sabide," said the chief, his voice was grumpy, which meant he was alert but not worried. "It looks alright so far. I am going to send you some scans of the buildings and the terrain. Watch our coordinates and I will check in within the hour, but so far, so good."

"Thanks chief. We'll wait to hear from you." Ziem was embarrassed by her tremulous voice. Chekov smiled up at her reassuringly, which she found annoying, because she felt certain he had been as nervous as she had been.

"Giotto out." In the background she heard McCoy say, "I'm a doctor, not..." and then the communicator went dead as the chief closed his.

"That is a relief." Chekov sighed.

Still irritated, but trying not to show it, Ziem said, "I guess we will never get to know what Dr. McCoy isn't."

"Don't worry about that. You will get to hear him say what he isn't many, many times." Chekov went back to work, adjusting first his tricorder and then his PADD. Ziem walked beside him. Watching him work made her feel calmer.

"What do you mean, we will hear it many times?" she asked.

Chekov snorted. "He says that often. Usually to explain why he cannot do what he will shortly end up doing any way. The captain doesn't even listen anymore except to tease him. I always want to say that most of the things he claims he isn't are not precluded by being a doctor anyway." He paused and added, "I never would of course. But I want to."

"You must see him a lot if you know that much about how he talks." Ziem said.

"He is on the bridge more than you would suppose. He is a close friend of the captain. I hear them talk quite a bit." Chekov replied.

"It must be fun being on the bridge, and seeing all the action up close." Ziem remembered that Uhura had told her the ensign worked the same alpha bridge shift as she did.

"I think it is probably like most jobs. Some of it is very interesting, and some of it is not so much." Chekov looked thoughtful and continued, "I like navigation, and I get plenty of time to think, and I like that. The captain lets me scribble my ideas and work on formulas as long as I am ready when he needs me, which I am careful to be."

He paused again, and then looked at her shyly and added. "Often I think the officers I work with are the best part. They are amazing, all of them. You know the captain, he is like no one else, and I get to watch him think and decide and all the time I feel so lucky. And Mr. Spock is..." He gestured and seemed at a loss for words. Eventually he started again.

"He is so smart, so, so smart, much smarter than I will ever be. And calm and brave all the time. I admire him very much. Do you want to know something surprising?" Chekov looked expectantly at Ziem. She nodded and he continued. "He says many witty things. People do not always pay attention, but I do. And I think he sometimes says things in an amusing way on purpose." He paused and then spoke a little slower, like he wasn't sure what he was saying, "I wonder often if it is hard for him always to be surrounded by people who don't think the way he does. Do you think that would be difficult? I think it would be exhausting."

Ziem had never considered what it must be like to be the least emotional one on the ship. It was hard, she knew, to look differently than most of the crew. She wondered if it was as difficult to think differently.

"I always heard Vulcans don't have emotions." she said.

"I do not know a great deal on the subject. But I understand that they do not choose to express their emotions, which is different than not having them." He paused and then said so quietly she almost didn't hear him, "I know they feel sorrow."

The ensign sounded wistful and he averted his eyes. Ziem couldn't read his expression. Ziem remembered that he had been on the ship on its maiden voyage, had seen Vulcan destroyed. She decided to change the topic.

"Tell me more about the bridge crew." Ziem said.

Ensign Chekov seemed to have reached the same decision as Ziem. He went back to the previous subject with a determined air. "There is Science Officer 0718. He is very interesting. Not a friend, and not witty like Mr. Spock, but very interesting. When he is on the bridge and is communicating with Mr. Spock, I can feel like the most average person imaginable. And that is sometimes nice." Ziem laughed and he looked pleased.

"Tell more." She said.

"Well, there is Lieutenant Uhura. You know her. She is smart, she knows so many languages! And she is always patient and kind to me. And she is brave! In battle, but also in life, and she does not allow even the captain to tease her. I wish I could decipher how she does that, but, it probably would not work for me. And there is Mr. Sulu, he is the best."

"Best pilot?" asked Ziem. She had heard that was true.

"He is the best pilot, but I meant he is the best person I know. He is smart and kind and brave, and an excellent athlete, so, so competent at everything. And he knows everyone on the ship, and everyone likes him because he is funny and good tempered. He always includes me when he has fun, and he doesn't have to. I admire him more than even the captain I think. I feel very lucky be their navigator, because if I was not they would not know me."

"They might. It's a small ship. We all meet each other eventually. They would probably still like you" said Ziem.

Chekov shook his head. "No. I am very good at math, but I am not amazing in any other way. Captain Pike picked me to be his navigator because of my simulator scores at the academy. He had never even met me. If he hadn't I would probably still be there, working in some depressing engineering lab and telling people their life's work was mathematically unbuildable."

"I think you're selling yourself short." Ziem remembered something and added, "Last night I heard Captain Kirk tell the chief that you were the only junior officer he really wanted to take on the trip today." Ziem tried to remember precisely what the captain had said, she was pretty sure it had been complimentary.

"Is that true?" asked Chekov doubtfully.

"Yes. But Mr. Spock said you were the only one here he could count on to do any work if left unsupervised and pretty much insisted they leave you." That Ziem did remember clearly. "And it turns out, he was right."

Chekov smiled shyly at his PADD and then looked up at Ziem. He said, "Well, I did tell you that Mr. Spock is smart." He paused and then added. "Thank you Lieutenant, you made me feel very happy by telling me these things."

As Uhura had said he would, he pronounced it "wery happy", which somehow made Ziem feel very happy herself. She liked seeing him smile, and for once she didn't feel awkward leaning down to look in his face. She just felt good, and glad she could please him. Realizing how much his happiness pleased her made her feel self-conscious, and again, she rushed to find something to say to change her mood.

"Can you explain something to me?" she blurted.

Looking surprised, he nodded.

"Why do you have so many nicknames?"

"Oh, that is simple. I thought you would ask something hard. My given name is Pavel. Most Americans make diminutives by shortening a name, so they tend to call me Pav. But in Russian the diminutive is Pasha, and that is what my family calls me. So when people on the ship decide they like me, they usually just begin to call me Pav. But when I want someone to be my friend, when I am seeking friendship, I usually ask them to call me Pasha. Does that make sense?" He seemed to have explained it before.

"Why don't you just tell everyone to call you Pasha?" asked Ziem.

"I don't mind being Pav. Although I did not know at first that people were talking to me when they said it. I didn't understand American naming habits until Lieutenant Uhura explained them to me. But I am always happy to be thought of. I don't care what they call me."

"It's the opposite for me. My given name is Ziem Sabide. But many of my people make it longer. They call me Ziemmie or worse, ZimZim. No one ever asks me either. They just do it. It's annoying. I don't think I look at all like a Ziemmie."

"And what does a Ziemmie look like?" asked Chekov.

"Ziemmie sounds sweet. I am going to guess that a Ziemmie looks far less intimidating than I do." Ziem answered.

"Maybe you don't seem intimidating to the other members of security." Chekov grinned playfully up at her. "Maybe you seem like a sweet little girl."

"I seem like a sweet little girl? You better be careful Ensign Chekov, keep it up and you may end up seeing just how intimidating I can be."

Chekov threw his hands up in mock surrender, waving his PADD above his head. "In that case, I should stay on your good side. How about Lieutenant Sabide, if you called me Pasha?" He paused and then added, "See how I did that?"

"Oh, I see, very smooth. I threaten you once, just a little bit, and immediately I get moved to the Pasha track. I guess I should have started bullying you days ago. We would have been friends and you would have given me all your milk by now. Okay Pasha, how about you call me Ziem then?"

"I like the name Ziem. Very pronounceable, which you probably noticed is not always the case for me. I will be happy to call you Ziem. And I think it sounds pretty without any changes at all." The two of them smiled at each other, then his tricorder chirped, and they went back to work.


	5. Chapter 14-15

Chapter 14  
Late Afternoon, the Third Day

When she was on duty and got bored, Ziem occasionally played a little game in which she pretended to be an unfriendly trying to sneak up on herself. She would come up with as many possibilities as she could and then consider the ways she could defend against them. It never failed to make her more alert. Hours after lunch, bored, hot and uncomfortable, she tried to play it. She paused and looked around. There was no significant cover, almost no way to avoid being seen on the Phadruan thought, _if I were a Phadruan terrorist, and wanted to sneak up on a Federation force, I would come in camouflage. I would dress in sand colored clothes and stick feathers in them. I woul just crawl along in the dirt. The good guys would never see me, because these stupid birds are everywhere. but it really doesn't matter because the heat makes it almost impossible to care about anything anyway._ Sighing, she walked on.

Ziem trudged through another march of the perimeter. Evening was approaching, and she knew as the sun started down the air had to be cooling off, but she couldn't feel it yet. Her feet ached. Her chafed skin burned where sweat stuck her uniform to her neck. She used her viewers to check the horizon. She saw nothing to indicate any trouble; just more of the grouse like birds.

There were more here than there had ever been anywhere else. They waddled across the wilted landscape, clucking to themselves and plunging their heads into the soil. They were noisy; it was impossible to predict when one would take offense with some member of its flock. The two would shriek and lunge at each other, pecking and squawking before one, or both, gave up and jumped into flight. Inevitably one would fly right over head. Her uniform was striped white with their droppings. She had stopped even trying to wipe it off hours ago. She turned and began to plod back to Chekov.

He stood on a slight ridge. The river, which was just off the grid on this pass was below and in front of him. He had his PADD in front of him, and his tricorder balanced on one hip. He wasn't looking at them, but instead stared intently over his left shoulder, toward the river. Coming from behind him on his right, she called out to him, so that he wouldn't be startled by her approach.

He looked up and smiled vaguely then returned his focus to the river. She wondered if she could possibly look as bad as he did. He was flushed, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face, and he was filthy.

She said, "You really, really need to wash that uniform. Actually maybe burn it would be better."

He grinned at that, and looked down at himself. "Yes, failing to bring an extra was not my best idea. I will wash it when we get back. I am going to hang it up and just sit in the water until it is dry."

"That won't take long in this heat." She paused and then, trying to keep her voice neutral, so she didn't sound like she was complaining, added, "We could probably head on back then, since you are going to have to take a while to clean up."

He nodded, and said, "Yes, and the tricorder is going to have to be scrubbed too. I gave up trying to protect it and concentrated on my PADD. If those chickens etched my screen with their shit I am coming back out here with a phaser."

He turned to her. "Ziem, before we go back, there's something I really want to do." He waited expectantly, and when she didn't respond he continued, "Look over there." He gestured toward the water.

"The river?" She asked uncertainly.

"No," he said, "not the river, look on the rocks where the ground starts to turn down. What do you see?"

Ziem looked over at the edge of the gully. She saw nothing, but birds. "Rocks?" she asked doubtfully.

"Beside the rocks, what do you see?" He repeated, pointing toward the ground.

"I don't see anything. There are some rocks and a lot of birds."

"Look around the rocks, see how all of them have piles of straw and twigs? Those are nests. And they weren't here in the last survey. That means they are new, which means it is stupid Phadrun chicken breeding season. And that means those eggs are fresh." He smiled slyly in the direction of the nests.

"Ziem," he continued, "last night while we were cleaning up after the dinner guests, I noticed that most of the dinner ration packs that are left are the salmon ones. I hate fish. I don't even want to be around when other people eat it."

"They aren't really fish." Ziem said unenthusiastically. She too disliked the salmon packs. They looked and smelled like salmon, but had the consistency of cooked cereal.

"The rations are worse than real fish because of the chemicals they use to try and make them seem like fish. It sticks to everything. If we open even one pack the whole camp will smell all night." He turned to her and looking very serious, said, "Ziem, I am sick of this job. I am hot, and tired, and bored. But more than any of those, I am really, really hungry. I think tonight we should have omelets."

Suddenly Ziem understood, she said, "You want to go over there and get eggs!"

He nodded.

"Are you crazy?" Ziem stared doubtfully toward the river. It was teeming with the grouse like creatures. "There are probably a thousand birds over there. You could get pecked to death."

"I have observed them this whole last rotation. They don't sit on the nests. It is hot enough here they may not need to. I don't think they are attentive parents. They might not even notice me." He paused and added, "But I am not sure, so will you watch and rescue me if I need it? I will try to be fast, but I am going to need to get quite a few eggs."

Ziem looked at Chekov doubtfully, he smiled encouragingly at her. She sighed and said, "So you want me to provide back up for you."

He nodded. "You are my security escort," he said hopefully.

She continued, "I back you up while you wade through an infestation of the birds that have literally shit on us all day long."

He nodded again and added, "It's not like they are going to get me dirtier."

"True," she said with a glance at his uniform. "But you want me to do this while you steal enough eggs to feed the entire remaining away team, including your tent mates, none of whom did absolutely anything to help with any of the work today. And you want to do this, because you think you may not like the way the rations smell."

"Yes!" he said. "You understand!" He grinned and grabbed both her arms with his hands. Ziem had a sudden image of him hugging her.

"I understand the words," she sighed, "but I don't understand the motivation. It can't possibly be that big of deal."

"It is a big deal...I will cook for you if you help me."

Ziem shook her head. She thought his idea was ridiculous, a complete waste of time. As the ranking officer and the acting head of security, she could forbid it. And she thought she would. Stealing eggs would keep her in the sun for however long it took him to decide he had enough. She knew Chief Giotto would approve her refusal. He did not like any unnecessary risk. Not that she really considered the birds to be dangerous, but she was hot and eager to be finished with the work day. She thought he was being silly about the fish. She never had any trouble eating the rations, whatever they tasted like. She opened her mouth to say no, but he looked up at her so appealingly, big eyed and hopeful, and she felt her resolve begin to weaken.

She said, "Oh fine. Go get the stupid eggs. You are cooking them though. That is if you don't die in a swarm of angry grouse parents first."

He looked very pleased. He handed her his PADD and said, "Watch this; I will need the tricorder though. Do you think two dozen will be enough?"

"Two dozen eggs for seven of us to eat for dinner? I think you are going to need to get at least four dozen. Maybe five if you really don't want anyone cracking a ration packet." Despite herself she was beginning to feel more interested. It was always like this for her, no matter how mundane, the tactical details always interested her.

"That many? Really?" He looked surprised, and she nodded, six each seemed minimal to her.

"All right," he said. "I am going to need something to carry them in." He slipped his pack off his back and reaching in, rearranged some things.

"I would feel better if you had both hands free." Ziem said. "What do you need the tricorder for?"

"I will need to analyze the eggs."

"They're eggs. What could you possibly need to know about them?"

He looked surprised and said, "On missions you can't just go pick up things. You have to analyze everything. The eggs could be poisonous. Or maybe they aren't even eggs. They look like eggs yes, and they are in nests, and there are chickens all around them, but it is a mistake to assume things are what they appear to be. They could be anything. It is even possible they are some new, previously unknown life form. They could be intergalactic explorers, just arrived to offer the Phadruans a better deal for their land. If I eat sentient beings because I don't like artificial salmon Mr. Spock will not be happy with me."

Ziem looked at him doubtfully and then asked, "So Mr. Spock is usually happy with you?"

He grimaced, acknowledging the truth of her words and said. "If it turns out I ate previously unknown explorers, Mr. Spock will be very, very direct in his criticism." He slung his pack on his arm, and balanced the tricorder on his hip. She smiled at the way he said "very". He continued without noticing.

"You will be careful of my PADD? I kept it clean all day long; I don't want these stupid chickens ruining the screen now."

"You kept it clean at considerable cost to your uniform." She said.

He nodded, "And to my hair. I hate these birds."

He stood at attention, like crewmen reporting at the start of a mission. "I am ready." He said. "Cover me."

She said, "I will, but take these rocks with you. Throw them at the birds if you feel overwhelmed. And hey, Pasha, listen. I don't think you're going to have any problems, but if you do, go low, try to get to the ground and I will shoot over you."

He slipped the rocks into the pouch on his pack and looked a little concerned. He said, "Set your phaser on stun. The lowest stun you have, those things hurt."

"I know, I will try not to shoot you, but it's good to have a plan. If you really want to do this I guess you are going to have to ask yourself, which is worse, a phaser headache or eating replicated fish?" Ziem said.

He nodded like she had said something profound and replied, "To avoid the salmon, I would risk much more than a headache." He took a deep breath and then said, "I am going in." He turned and started on his way.

Ziem watched him walk towards the nesting grounds. At first he moved resolutely, like a soldier starting a crusade, but as he got closer and the birds got more numerous he began to slow down and walk more gingerly, trying to avoid the largest groups. The birds acted more nervous as he got closer. They squawked and fussed, and did a lot of fly overs. But they didn't actually attack, and he kept moving slowly forward, coming eventually to the nests. Kneeling, he pulled his uniform up over his head and aimed the tricorder at the nest. She watched carefully, seeing no danger, but eager to be ready if the situation changed. Then her communicator beeped.

Still watching Chekov she flipped it open and said, "This is Sabide."

"This is Giotto."

"Hey Chief." She wondered, _Could it really be eighteen hundred_? She glanced quickly at the comm and confirmed that it was.

The chief sounded cranky, but not worried. "What are you doing?"

"I am still in the field. I'm watching Ensign Chekov finish up his work. Then we are going to go back to the camp." That sounded better she decided than saying she was watching Ensign Chekov be crapped on by about a million birds.

"We are still waiting for this dinner to begin. Just now we are being entertained by a children's choir." He sighed, and repeated, "A children's choir! Apparently they like to wait till dark to start eating. I'll keep you informed, but I see no way we are going make it back tonight."

"Everything is checking out?" As she spoke Ziem saw Chekov suddenly jump back, and she automatically lifted her weapon, but he settled back down, and reached out again so she relaxed and tried to listen to the chief.

"...perfectly safe." The chief said, Ziem wondered what she had missed while all her attention was on Chekov and the birds. "I will continue to check in on schedule. You're still getting our signals?"

"Oh yes. Everything is coming in clear. We watched it all afternoon and I am pretty sure we could get you out quickly if we needed to." Ziem really hoped it hadn't been anything essential.

"Okay, then just keep on following the plan, I will ping you every hour if things are fine, and talk to you in a couple hours." Giotto, never one to prolong conversations, was signing off.

"Um, yes, I will watch for your signal, keep to protocols, check in with the ship, and stick to the plan." Ziem tried to think of everything he was likely to have mentioned while she was distracted.

"That's what I just said." Giotto sounded confused, then annoyed. "Is everything alright Sabide?"

"Oh yes sir, no concerns sir. I was just distracted trying to keep an eye on Ensign Chekov. He's gathering, um, that is to say, he's doing some field work, and I am trying to keep him in my line of vision without changing my own position." Ziem tried to sound both organized and competent, and to tell the truth without mentioning the eggs. It would make too long a story and she wanted to concentrate on Chekov. She was having a difficult time keeping sight of him through the throng of nervous birds. Stretching up on her toes she saw a bit of his gold shirt. She didn't understand what could be taking him so long.

"Well, carry on, and I'll talk to you at 2100." Giotto, reassured, was once again eager to get back to his own responsibilities.

"Yes sir," began Ziem, but the chief had already closed his comm. Ziem sighed and focused all her attention on Chekov. She moved to get a better view. The birds around him were skittish, flying one way and then another, puffing and squawking. She doubted he could hear over their noise, especially with his uniform over his head. She stepped on a rock, trying to get a better view. He had the tricorder on the ground in front of him, but she couldn't see what he was doing with it. There were many nests, and he appeared to be moving slowly from one to the next. He had his pack hanging from his shoulder and she could see when he added to it. She thought he was working very slowly. Watching, her anxiety faded, her boredom grew. After half an hour, just as she thought she would walk over and join him, willing to brave the birds if it meant she would have something to do, he stood up. He slipped his other arm into the pack, so that he was wearing it backwards, and started toward her.

"What took you so long?" she asked as soon as he was close enough that she thought he might hear her.

All smiles, and looking very pleased with himself, he held out his hand as he passed and said, "Let's go eat!"

She jogged a few steps to catch him, and then matched his brisk walk. She asked again, "What took you so long? I was getting nervous. I could barely even see you through all those birds. The chief called and I could hardly concentrate on what he had to say."

"There are thousands of eggs in those nests. And the birds don't care about them. But there are so many birds there that they don't always have room to fly away if they feel threatened. And they don't like it when they think you are reaching towards them. I kept getting bit." He held out his hands, showing her dozens of welts.

"Peck." Ziem said. He looked at her quizzically but kept walking toward camp.

"Birds peck," she said again. "I think you have to have teeth to bite."

"Peck, birds peck. OK. Thanks. Also I was trying to take some readings to figure out how big that nesting area is, I wasn't close enough to the center to get an accurate view. This means I have to go back tomorrow. Not exciting prospect, all those stupid chickens are getting more aggressive. I decided to leave as soon as I got 50 eggs. They better taste good, I am probably going to have nightmares about being buried in feathers."

Ziem laughed and said, "I don't blame you, I might have the same nightmare just from watching."

"Is my PADD alright?" he asked.

"It's fine. Do you want it?" He nodded and she handed it to him. Immediately he began tapping on it. Looking down, watching his work, he didn't see a rock in his path, and stumbled. Ziem reached out and grabbed his arm, preventing him from falling. He smiled ruefully at her.

"Captain Kirk is not totally exaggerating when he says I am clumsy." He said.

"Why don't you let me carry the eggs if you are going to be using that?" she asked.

"Probably a good idea." He slipped off the pack and handed it to her. "How horrible would it be if I broke all the eggs and we didn't get to eat one after all this work!"

"That would be bad." Ziem agreed.

Ziem led the way, moving briskly, the idea of returning to base had improved her mood. He followed closely behind, tapping away, glancing up from time to time to check his bearings, but mostly paying attention to his PADD and whatever he was doing on it. Suddenly one of the birds squawked loudly, from very near, startling Ziem. The big bird took to the sky. It had been busy feeding and hadn't noticed their approach, so they were unusually close. It flew directly over them both, with the usual consequence. Chekov had been so deep in concentration over his figures that he hadn't noticed, and the bird's droppings splattered all over his PADD.

"No! No! No!" He gasped. He scrubbed at the screen with his sleeve, which only spread the mess around. He wiped it against his leg, which was cleaner than his shirt. That helped a little, but not much. He looked up at Ziem with an expression of real distress.

"I hate these stupid birds!" He moaned. Then he bent down and grabbed a rock off the ground. He heaved it at the still airborne grouse, yelling something Ziem couldn't understand. He missed the bird completely. The rock arched up and then slowly began its descent. The bird, oblivious, flew directly into its path. The rock connected with its skull with a thump and both rock and bird plummeted to ground where they lay completely still.

Ziem looked down at Chekov with astonishment. He was looking back up at her with his mouth hanging open. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds and then Chekov sprinted off to the little body. Ziem followed after him moving much more slowly. She felt very nervous. Ziem had never seen anyone kill an animal before, not even accidentally, like this. She tried to think of something she could say to make him feel better.

When she caught up to him he was kneeling on the ground, gazing at the sad little pile in front of him. She walked up to him, thinking, _Should I hug him? Would a pat on the shoulder be better, I have to offer some sort of comfort._ _I wonder what's appropriate?_ _I'm his commanding officer, but he has to be miserable. I should do something._ As she stood still, trying to decide what to do, he reached out and grabbed the bird's feet. He jumped up, holding the bird before him. Its wings tilted down at an unnatural angle, and its little body swung slowly back and forth as he showed it to her.

"Ziem," he said with a grin, "Guess what? Tonight with our omelets we have chicken!"

Chapter 15  
Evening, the Third Day

Ziem and Pasha spent the remainder of the trip back to camp arguing. His PADD forgotten, he practically bounced beside her, excited and happy, while she trudged along feeling consumed with dread. She tried to convince Pavel to bury the dead bird, and tell no one what had happened, but he flatly refused. She didn't understand how such a shy, kind being could be so unconcerned about the death of another creature, but he seemed completely at peace.

They got back to camp more than half an hour late, absolutely filthy, carrying a backpack stuffed with eggs, and a dead bird. Rudolph was sitting by the tents, and when he saw them he called to the rest of the group. The nurse and the two lieutenants came out to meet them.

"You look even worse than usual. And you're late. What took you so long?" said Martin. Chekov smiled and he held up the body. The other humans became very excited. They came closer, reached out to stroke the feathers and all talked at once.

"Where did you get that?" asked Lapinski.

"You killed one of those birds! Great idea! Can we eat it?" asked Rudolph.

Chekov replied, "I think we should try, Lieutenant Sabide disagrees though."

"There is no way you killed that thing." said Lapinski. "It had to be Sabide."

"Oh no," said Ziem crankily. "He did that all on his own." Chekov nodded, smiling shyly and looking a little proud.

"Ensign," began Lieutenant Sascheja, her eyes even rounder than usual, "I am astonished by your lack of judgement. You had a specific task you were to finish, and this...hunting adventure surely distracted you from it. Not to mention that it was a complete misuse of Starfleet materials."

"I hit it with a rock, while we were walking back. I had already finished my work for the day." Chekov said.

"The slaughter of indigenous animals was not contained in the scope of work as it was originally outlined by the captain." Listening to Lieutenant Sascheja lecture actually made Ziem feel slightly more interested in being in Chekov's corner for the dead bird debate.

"I don't think he did it on purpose Lieutenant, it was more like it ran into his rock." Ziem said.

"I knew you didn't actually kill that thing." said Lapinski.

"And yet," said Chekov in a silky, respectful tone he often used when speaking to Lieutenant Lapinski, "it is dead. Looking at Martin he added in his normal voice, "I think we should try to eat it."

"Damn right we're eating it." said Rudolph. "Do you realize there is only one beef and noodles rations pack left? All the rest are salmon. I hate those fish ones. I guess even the Phadruans wouldn't eat them. Tim spent half the afternoon on the comm with the quartermaster trying to convince him to transport us some decent food."

"Which he refused to do unless some ranking officer calls, apparently just saying the captain left me in charge doesn't quite cut it with supply." said Martin with a laugh. Lapinski scowled and Martin laughed harder.

"We were just arguing over who got to eat the beef and noodles. We all voted for ourselves. You aren't even in the running Pav. Don't feel bad, I wouldn't have been either, but I am armed. We all agreed Ziemmie could probably just have it if she forced the issue. We were thinking of hiding it, but we couldn't decide who should get it if she didn't." Rudolph said. He sounded friendly, but he still annoyed Ziem by not using her correct name and referring, even indirectly, to her size. Chekov glanced up at her consolingly.

"I don't think Lieutenant Sabide wants to try any chicken, she is going to eat eggs." Chekov said.

"What eggs?" asked Martin and Rudolph together. Ziem stepped forward and opened Chekov's pack.

"Whoah," yelped Rudolph. "What have you got there? Like a hundred?"

"Fifty." answered Chekov proudly. Lieutenant Sascheja stepped forward and peered into the sack and then glared threateningly at Chekov.

He hunched his shoulders, looked at the ground, and mumbled, "Which I got after finishing hours of field work while documenting a previously undescribed nesting ground."

Lieutenant Sascheja continued to stare angrily at him. Lieutenant Lapinski surprised Ziem by saying, "Back off Sascheja. We all know he's the only one who did any actual work today, what do you care how he did it? The important thing now is to figure out who's going to dress this little beauty."

"What dress? What beauty?" Chekov sounded confused. "Do you mean Lieutenant Sabide? She looks nice already."

Rudolph and Martin howled with laughter. Ziem could feel herself blush. Lapinski sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Seriously Chekov, I don't know why everyone thinks you're so smart. I don't see it." said Lieutenant Lapinski.

Chekov looked completely lost. "I don't understand," he said. "What dress?"

"He means who's going to get the bird ready to cook. Dress is the word for that." said Martin, still laughing.

"It is? Standard is so difficult. Should be undress maybe, because you have to take the feathers off." said Chekov.

"Yes" said Lapinski. "Yes, that is it. Who wants to take the feathers off the damn bird so we can cook it? Soon too, because I am hungry."

"Also the guts need to come out. And it will cook faster if we cut it up. I can do that, but I want to clean my PADD and take a bath first." said Chekov.

"I am not helping." Ziem said firmly.

Ignoring her, Martin said, "Do it now Pav, you'll just need to clean up again if you do it after. We can get to cooking it if you do it first."

"Good idea, it is a better use of time. Also," as he spoke Chekov sounded more excited. "If I bring my PADD I can take pictures of the dissection. No one ever documented the insides of Phadruan chicken before."

"Now that's our Little Ensign That Could! Serving science and bringing home the bacon all at the same time!" Rudolph said with a laugh. Lapinski and Martin laughed too, and Chekov smiled, although he looked perplexed and Ziem felt confident he didn't get the joke.

"Do not clean that bird anywhere close to where we all bath." Sascheja said, she still sounded angry.

"Yes Lieutenant, I will be very careful. Do you have any surgical tools? I will need something very sharp." Mr. Chekov said.

"You are not using any of my supplies for this silliness." replied the nurse firmly.

"How about this?" Rudolph said as he reached into his boot and pulled out a large Bowie knife.

"Perfect!" said Chekov.

"Do you always carry that?" asked Ziem.

"Don't you?" answered Rudolph.

"Randy, go with him. He's going to cut his hand off with something like that." ordered Lapinski.

"Sure sir. Let's go ensign." Rudolph began to walk and as Chekov started after him turned to the younger man and said, "Do you really think you can do this?" Chekov nodded, and Rudolph said again, "Seriously, do you really think you can do this?"

"Yes, I think I can." replied the ensign. Rudolph looked back at Martin and Lapinski and smirked. Then he grinned at the smaller man and grabbing his shirt, pulled him closer into a kind of one armed hug. Chekov jumped back skittishly.

"Know what? I think you can too!" said Rudolph. Then the two of them walked off towards the head, Rudolph still laughing and the ensign smiling nervously up at him.

The two lieutenants watched them go until they were nearly out of sight. Then Martin turned to Lapinski and said. "I can't believe he got him to say it. And so quick! We are going to have to pay him. Do you have that many credits?"

Lapinski shook his head and said, "No. I'll have to borrow them. It was worth it though. I wish we had made a vid."

"Oh that would have been great! Do you think he could get him to do it again?" asked Martin.

"Not for free, knowing Rudolph." Lapinski replied.

"What are you talking about?" asked Ziem.

Neither man answered her, although Martin glanced her way and then towards the ground with a slightly guilty smile.

"What do you want Rudolph to do again?" she asked, this time more insistently.

Lapinski continued to ignore her, but Martin answered, "We bet Rudolph he couldn't get Chekov to say "I think I can" in front of us." He sounded like he just assumed Ziem would enjoy the joke. She began to feel angry.

"And that is what? Funny?" she asked.

"It's from a children's book, oh never mind. It's not that big of deal. Pav is always so enthusiastic and hardworking. It gets annoying. So we joke about it a little bit. It doesn't hurt anything." said Martin.

"You are like a pair of ten year olds." Ziem sniffed.

"Okay. Okay. Fine." said Martin defensively. "We were just bored and playing. You are making something out of nothing, and anyway, it's done. Just let it drop."

Lapinski looked up at her, and said calmly, "I don't care what you think. I don't like him, and it is funny. I am only sorry we didn't get a vid of it."

Ziem felt ill equipped to stand up to Lapinski. He always looked at her as if she were barely interesting enough for him to speak to. She wasn't used to arguing and knew she wasn't good at it. Part of her wished that she had just ignored the incident, but she was still angry about them skipping the afternoon shift, and the nature of the joke bothered her. She tried hard to think of something impressive to say.

Finally she said, "Even as big of assholes as you two were today, he didn't say anything bad about you." Neither of the lieutenants looked worried. She wished she could come up with a better taunt.

Lapinski said, "Well of course he didn't, he's very noble, our little micro genius. He has to be, otherwise more people would resent that he gets absolutely everything without working for it."

"That's ridiculous." said Ziem.

"Is it?" asked Lapinski in the same bored tone. "He decides to go to the academy instead of high school, and bang, they have a spot just for him. He hangs out a couple years, and then, bang, he's given a commission and a ship. But not just any ship, no, he's assigned to the Enterprise, the flagship of the fleet. Oh, but that's not enough, no he gets to be the navigator. No, no, he gets to be alpha shift navigator. How is that right?"

Lapinski paused, and his tone changed. For the first time he seemed interested in what he was saying. "From the time I was a kid I worked to get into the academy, I worked hard to get in and I worked hard while I was there. I did all the right things, but I don't get on the bridge. I hardly get noticed, while Kirk and Spock spend all their time watching their little performing puppy dog. It's not right. I'm not the only one that thinks sometimes it's good to remind him that he's not important."

Ziem was shocked. The command track officers were generally considered to be the most competitive group on the ship, but she had never before heard one talk like this about another. In security it was different; they looked out for each other. Even the youngest, most green, enlisted man was considered an important team member. She couldn't imagine spending her time cataloguing the faults of the people she depended on every day.

Martin seemed uncomfortable too, he looked skeptically at Lapinski. Then he said, "I don't think you need to worry Tim, I think you make it pretty clear that you don't like him. He probably has no doubts about that at all." Looking up at Ziem he added, "As for me, Lieutenant Sabide, I didn't bet because it was a joke on Ensign Chekov, I would've bet on anyone, I was just bored and it was funny. I don't dislike Pav, he's more serious than I am, but lots of people are. He's a good guy. I don't usually understand what he's talking about, but then, I don't want to either, it's not interesting to me. And that's why I don't even want to work on the bridge. I don't understand any of those guys. Well, that, and having Mr. Spock watch me all the time would creep me out."

Ziem felt herself relax a little, which must have encouraged him. He continued, "How about if we all agree to not talk about the bet anymore? We can all just drop it." He frowned at Lapinski; the other officer rolled his eyes but said nothing. He continued, "Then you can make a fire, Lieutenant Sabide, and Tim, you can find something big enough to cook a dozen eggs in. I for one, am very excited not to eat rations, and I don't want tonight ruined. So let's all just agree to step down, and let it go."

Ziem nodded. Lapinski said nothing, but he did turn toward the supply area, and Ziem considered that an acquiescence. She got the fire going and pulled several dozen eggs out of Pasha's pack. She was careful to keep his dwindling supply of milk out of sight of her fellow officers. After a half hour Lieutenant Sascheja came and joined her. The lieutenant seemed to have calmed herself somewhat. She talked about her day, which seemed to Ziem to have been dedicated to entirely to reorganizing the already organized medical supplies. Conscious of Martin and Lapinski nearby, and considering her criticism of them, Ziem was very careful to listen to the nurse and make appropriate, polite, comments.

Rudolph joined them shortly, holding the plucked and quartered bird. Each section was skewered on a branch sharpened at either end. Rudolph stuck the sticks in the ground by the fire, so that the meat was close to the flame. He sat down to watch the meat, determined that it wouldn't burn. He was in a very happy mood. He chatted and laughed, and told them funny stories about other times he had cooked. For the first time Ziem could see why he was considered charming by many of the other security officers.

Lieutenant Sascheja asked him where Chekov was. Rudolph looked up at Ziem and said, "He's down at the river. You know ladies, it's not too late to sneak down and watch him finish his bath. He's probably still naked!"

Once again, Ziem felt herself begin to blush. Her throat tightened. She couldn't speak, and only managed to shake her head no. She was so flustered she could only barely hear the nurse tell Rudolph in a no nonsense voice that she saw naked men at work all day every day, and that they held little interest for her.

"Oh I can believe that Lieutenant Sascheja." laughed Rudolph, "but you should go keep Lieutenant Sabide company. I think she's very interested." Then he leered at Ziem in an annoying, knowing way.

"You're an idiot." Ziem finally managed to sputter.

Rudolph laughed harder. "Am I? Or am I really, really smart?"

"Well you're definitely not smart." said Martin, who walked up just then, followed by Lapinski and carrying several buckets. "What are you all talking about?"

"Nothing." said Ziem firmly.

"Several things, most recently whether or not Mr. Rudolph is an idiot." Sascheja said seriously.

"Please, asked and answered." said Lapinski, sounding bored, as he always did in conversations he hadn't started. He dropped to one of the stone seats by the fire.

Rudolph didn't seem to feel ganged up on, or even bothered. Instead he grinned and said, "You can say I am stupid, but I am smart enough to be walking away with all your credits today boys."

Chekov appeared then, with wet hair and uniform, looking happy. He was not clean, but he was less filthy. He was carrying a large bunch of fibrous looking plants. Ziem felt her throat tighten again, and glanced at Rudolph, panicked that he would start teasing her again, but he seemed to have forgotten the conversation. Instead he held a bucket while Chekov cut the plant roots into small pieces and dropped them into it. They added water. Then Chekov put the largest log they had on the fire and set the bucket on top it.

Martin and Rudolph began breaking eggs into another bucket. They added it to the log. Chekov sat a little way off and began to clean his PADD. Martin and Rudolph stirred the pots, and turned the meat, and chatted happily. Sascheja asked about plates, getting no response she walked away. Ziem thought perhaps she was angry again, but she returned with ration trays and forks she had removed from the recycling units and sterilized. The food began to smell good. Ziem felt very, very hungry.

Finally Rudolph declared the meal cooked. They drained the roots, and loaded their plates. The four young men took the meat, and got in line with the women to take eggs and potatoes. They all sat down and began to eat. The food was plain, they had no salt, or butter or sauce of any kind, but it tasted good after days of ration packs. Ziem thought they must all have been hungry, because no one spoke. Even the nurse ate enthusiastically. For several minutes there was no sound but chewing. Gradually the eating began to slow down. The young men sat contentedly and competed to see who could hit the very center of the flames with the bones they had picked clean. Ziem wondered if there were more potatoes, and if she could possibly bring herself to take them.

Suddenly Chekov said, "We forgot Mr. Wilson!"

"We did!" said Martin.

Lapinski jumped up and flipped open his comm. Ziem could hear him inviting the geologist to dinner. The nurse looked disapprovingly at the whole group.

"This is not our fault Lieutenant Sascheja," said Rudolph. "He's quiet. We didn't even see him all afternoon. We were hungry."

"He was working." the nurse said primly.

The young men looked chastised, but then Rudolph said, "Actually, I am kind of glad we didn't remember until after we ate the meat. That way we didn't have to share."

Chekov looked a little embarrassed, but joined Martin in laughing. Then he jumped up and looked around, eventually he turned to the nurse and asked where the other ration tray was. Lieutenant Sascheja opened her wide eyes even more than usual, and didn't answer.

"You forgot him too!" crowed Rudolph.

"I did not." snapped Sascheja.

"Forgot who?" asked Lieutenant Wilson, who appeared suddenly from the direction of the tents.

"I am sorry sir; we cooked some eggs and roots. They are good, but we did not sterilize enough trays. We don't have one for you to eat from. If you wait, I will go and get one." Chekov brushed over the forgetting of Mr. Wilson's existence by the entire group very neatly Ziem thought.

"Really, you cooked actual food? That sounds excellent. Don't bother ensign; I can just eat out of the cooking pot. I don't mind if you don't." Mr. Wilson began to pick at the nearly empty buckets of food. He seemed very enthusiastic, and not at all offended at being forgotten.

After a few bites he looked up and said, "This is very nice, a real treat. I confess, when I noticed there were only salmon ration packs left, I actually went to bed early to avoid eating them. I think they are dreadful. So tell me how you found these supplies."

Ziem began to retell the story of the nesting grounds. It was gradually getting darker and cooler. The whole group sat peacefully around the fire and listened. Chekov sat next to her, and when she mentioned how long it had taken him to collect the eggs he interrupted.

"I am sorry Ziem, but I could not be faster. I had to see that each egg was fresh." he said.

"Although I do not endorse the project, it was appropriate of you to be so careful about the wholesomeness of our food Mr. Chekov." said Lieutenant Sascheja primly.

"Not really," he said shaking his head. "I was thinking of me." He looked around at the group and explained, "You think it is bad listening to me complain about Starfleet rations, imagine what I would do if a fetal bird dropped onto my plate."

The group chuckled, and even Sascheja smiled, although she looked unwilling as she did so. Ziem continued her story. As she described the bird flying into the rock Rudolph turned to Chekov and said, "So what did you say to make it actually want to kill itself?"

Chekov shrugged then said, "Russian swear words, much more scary than standard. It lost all hope."

"Poor little thing, it heard you screaming and found it so horrible that it threw itself in front of your rock." said Rudolph.

"Not poor thing. Stupid, shit filled chicken. I wish I had killed more." said Chekov.

"I wish you had too." said Martin. "That thing was tasty."

Chekov looked thoughtful, and then said, "If I knew we were going to be here alone again tomorrow, I could get more."

"No you couldn't," said Lapinski. "You only accidently managed to kill that one. You couldn't convince all the birds to dive in front of your rocks."

"We could set the phasers to stun," began Rudolph

"Still too powerful, there would be nothing left but smell of burned feathers." said Chekov. "We could probably trap them, or maybe..." his voice drifted off and he stared into space, brow furrowed, clearly deep in thought.

"Maybe what?" asked Martin.

"It does not matter." Chekov replied. "Mr. Spock would never agree. Tomorrow we will just have to eat rations. Do you think Captain Kirk will get us some more? Maybe the mac and cheese?"

"If he doesn't then we are all getting the fish." Mr. Lapinski said. "You know Kirk is going to take the one and only beef for himself." Chekov opened his mouth as if to object, but closed it without saying anything. Everyone sat quietly for a few minutes, considering the inevitable consequences of absolute power.

"What time are they supposed to be back?" asked Wilson, eventually breaking the silence.

"The chief didn't know, the dinner hadn't even started when I talked to him. He thought it would be after breakfast. He's supposed to call again around 21:00." said Ziem.

"He's calling pretty soon then." said Rudolph. "Try and get him to give you a specific time."

As the sun set the air cooled off rapidly and everything grew still. The group sat silently gazing at the fire. Ziem reflected on how nice it was to feel full and cool. Cooking had taken so long that there was no chance to have an after dinner work party. She knew they should clean up, and get ready for bed, but it was peaceful sitting in the dusk. She stared contentedly at the fire, feeling more and more relaxed. When her comm pinged it startled not just her, she noticed several people jump.

Flipping open the little machine she said, "This is Sabide." Her voice sounded scratchy and thick.

"Sabide, is that you?" Giotto sounded angry.

"It's me Chief." she cleared her throat and spoke more firmly.

"What are you asleep already? I told you I would call in at 21:00."

"No, I know, I'm just, um, I haven't been talking. Uh, there is nothing to report here. Are you on your way home?"

"No we are not on our way back to camp, in fact we are just now being served dinner. Actually we are just now being given the option of beginning to eat dinner and several people are not taking it. We have been ushered into a courtyard where the tables are. Check and make sure it is lighting up on your screen." As Giotto talked Sabide had handed her tricorder to Chekov who pulled up the maps illustrating the positions of all the away crew members. He nodded up to her when he found the appropriate dots in the correct fields.

Smiling her thanks Ziem said, "You're coming in fine Chief, how do you assess the risk?"

"Low," he replied, "very low. In fact at this point I consider these people too poorly organized to threaten a sick kitten. You should see this fiasco. Anyway, I will continue as per plan, staying at high alert."

"Yes sir, very wise." Ziem said. The whole group around the fire was staring intently at her and trying to catch every word. She felt very self-conscious being the focus of such attention. With so many people around her she felt like there wasn't room for her to move away, but she turned so that she didn't have to see the staring.

Lapinski hissed, "Ask when they will be back."

"Uh sir, is there any estimation of when we should expect your return?" She tried to make her tone conversational, she knew it was silly, but she felt like she was trying to sneak something past the boss.

"Good question. I would like to know that too. They have bed rolls set up all around the courtyard. They are clearly expecting us to stay the night. They talk like they want us to stay for breakfast. Whenever we leave we have a five hour return drive. I would like to say noon, but I keep hearing discussion about visiting some subterranean falls tomorrow. Which I am strongly opposed to, but which the captain has not so far completely rejected." Giotto sounded bitter.

"Oh, well," Ziem tried to think of more to say.

"The captain is enjoying himself." Giotto said even more bitterly.

"Will you keep us informed?" Ziem asked. Lapinski and Rudolph nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh I will. We'll continue to ping each other hourly, and I will call in at 0600."

"Okay, great Chief." said Ziem.

"Tell Rudolph to take the first two watches Sabide. I think you must be tired. You sound stressed." said Giotto.

"No, I'm fine really, just not much of a comm chatterer. I do better in live conversations." All the young men continued to watch her closely. She knew it wasn't her they were interested, but the chief's plans. Still, their scrutiny made her feel incompetent. She knew her voice sounded quivery and nervous. Over the comm she could hear some sort of celebratory cheer in the background, and fortunately it distracted the chief.

"Hendorff, what was that? Well what is he doing now? Yeah, okay, of course he did. You know, a mission with him is like taking a five year old to a parade. Just get back over there and watch him. Sabide, carry on, I'm out." said Giotto abruptly, and he closed his comm.

Ziem clicked her comm closed, and fingered it nervously while she gathered the courage to look at the young men now circled around her.

"I heard him say they wouldn't be back till after lunch. I say we go hunting." said Rudolph.

"We don't have time, we all have to work tomorrow." said Lapinski.

"Oh come on, send Pav at least. He said he can get us more birds. If we all work while he hunts it will be fine." said Martin.

"No. I am going to work tomorrow also." said Chekov.

"Again, Chekov, you are not in charge, I am." Lapinski said. He shook his head and at the younger man before continuing. "You are so predictable. Honestly, it's boring. You can't even admit you killed that bird by accident. You couldn't do it again if you wanted to."

Ziem watched Chekov. He stared back at Lapinski with narrowed eyes. He said nothing, but he drummed his fingers against the side of his leg. The two men gazed at each other for several seconds.

"Typical." Lapinski said with a sneer, turning away from the younger man.

"I did kill that bird accidently, but I could kill more. I just don't want to." Chekov said in a quiet, defiant voice. After a brief pause he added, "Sir."

Sascheja clucked disapprovingly, and Wilson looked worried. Martin and Rudolph had the surprised, delighted expressions Ziem had observed in other young men when they saw fight start in a bar or a confrontation between an old and a new girlfriend in the mess hall. She wondered why some beings seemed to enjoy chaos so much. The tension was making her nervous to the point of nausea, and she wished desperately to think of something calming to say.

Lapinski sneered and said, "Really? That is your excuse? You have so many other choices. As official golden boy of the Enterprise you could use your exemplary work ethic. You could cite how you are such a genius, or your completely superior understanding of the importance of this project. You could even just admit you don't know how to do it; but instead you go with the weakest excuse of all, 'I don't want to'." Lapinski copied Chekov's accent as he spoke, but changed his tone to sound whiney.

"Perhaps the ensign has some moral compunction against unnecessarily taking the lives of the native animals." suggested the nurse.

"He developed it very recently then." said Lapinski disdainfully, arms crossed across his chest.

"But if, as he said, the original bird's death was in fact accidental," began Sascheja.

"It is not moral." snapped Chekov, still staring angrily at Lapinski. "I don't mind killing chickens. Today I would have killed every damn chicken on this planet with my bare hands. Tomorrow I do not wish to kill any."

"Why doesn't everyone calm down and maybe you could just try to explain that to us?" Martin said in a friendly, placating tone.

Chekov sighed and looked over at him and said, "It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does." said Rudolph. "I know I would love to hear more." Ziem thought that, true to form, he sounded like he was enjoying the scene around him.

"I know it will sound stupid." said Chekov evasively.

"You are used to that though." Lapinski interjected.

"Tim, shut up. Just for five minutes try not to be an asshole." said Martin, frowning at his friend. Then he added, "Go on Pav, tell us what the big deal about tomorrow is."

Chekov sighed again, and then slowly said, "I don't mind killing the birds, which, I think I do know how to do." He gave Lapinski an angry look. "It is that," He paused and then tried again. "Mr. Spock will be back tomorrow." He shifted his attention from Lapinski, and nodded to the group like that was enough of an explanation. Ziem felt completely confused.

"And that is a problem because...?" asked Rudolph. Chekov looked at him with consternation, and then looked around at the group, clearly surprised that no one understood his worry.

"Mr. Spock is a Vulcan. He is a complete vegetarian. He doesn't use any animal products. He does not understand why anyone would. I think it causes him...some discomfort to think that others do. I would feel bad if Mr. Spock to saw me do it, or even if he knew that I did it. If he is returning tomorrow, it is possible he would."

"So you aren't afraid to do it, you're afraid to have people know." said Martin. Chekov nodded.

Rudolph said, "I totally get it, I feel that way about almost everything interesting. I would do a lot more if I knew I could get away with it." Chekov smiled weakly.

"Are you afraid he would put you on report?" asked Martin.

"No! Stupid chicken is not sentient! It is not against regulations to kill specimen. We take samples all the time from planets. This is really not that different." said Chekov.

"Well then, what? Is he going to yell at you?" Rudolph asked again.

"Mr. Spock does not yell." the ensign said, beginning to sound unsure of himself.

"What's he going to do then?" Rudolph asked in a puzzled tone.

Chekov sighed and said, "He would possibly raise an eyebrow." He looked a little embarrassed and smiled ruefully before adding, "His lips might get a small bit tight." He gestured with his fingers, showing them a small bit. He looked at his own hands and shook his head as if he was a little afraid of the idea of Mr. Spock tightening his lips. Then he looked at the others with a hopeful, nervous expression. Ziem remembered Lieutenant Uhura had called him endearing. She completely agreed.

Rudolph snorted and said, "That sounds just like Giotto when he's mad. Except then he kicks a hole in the wall and throws you through it. Right Ziem?"

Ziem said, "Pretty much Randy." She couldn't help smiling a little bit at the idea of the chief expressing anger by tightening his lips.

Chekov looked sideways up at her and added. "It is worse than it sounds though." Martin and Rudolph both began to laugh, but in a friendly way, Ziem thought.

"It is!" Chekov repeated. He started to laugh too, and with a mischievous expression, added. "He might even perhaps stand up more straight."

"Ooow, sounds terrifying." moaned Rudolph in mock fear.

"I know. I told you that it would sound stupid." The young man paused again, clearly weighing what he wanted to say. His expression grew more thoughtful and he said, "I feel badly for him that he must be so much with people who do not always treat his values with respect. I don't want to be one more like that."

"Sounds noble Pav, but I really believe it is the eyebrow you're actually worried about," Martin said. Rudolph laughed harder and slapped Chekov on the back, the younger man stumbled forward.

Lapinski watched his crewmates. His expression grew more and more disgusted. Finally he looked at Chekov and said, "I think you have a crush on that freak. The two of you deserve each other."

The goodwill evaporated immediately. Ziem felt herself begin to blush. Martin, Rudolph, and even Wilson turned to stare at Lapinski with shocked expressions. Sascheja looked at the whole group with disapproval. Chekov gazed up at his superior officer. Ziem couldn't read his expression. After several seconds he spoke.

"And I think, that you do not understand admiration." said Chekov quietly. He waited a few seconds before adding, "Sir." Then he jumped up and added, "I would like to be excused," paused and again added, "Sir."

"Go." said Lapinski. Chekov slipped off toward the tents without another word to the group.

Martin waited until he was out of sight to turn to his friend and say, "You know Tim, if you really want to make a go of this commanding officer thing, you are going to have to learn how to not antagonize your subordinates."

"He's so annoying. I mean, we all know he's already done everything he was refusing to do. He was just trying to sound noble. It was so typical. Truthfully, I could write a script of what he's going to say. And he uses that Vulcan as an excuse. How stupid is that?" Lapinski countered.

"All I know is, now we all get to eat artificial salmon tomorrow. Thanks for that." said Martin.

"Fine, you want birds, you'll get birds. I don't need him. I will go get some stupid birds. But you are going to work. You all leave for the field at 0600. We have lots of ground to make up. So be ready." With that Lapinski turned and stomped off toward the tents too.

"Oh dear, this is uncomfortable." said Wilson.

Ignoring the geologist, Rudolph turned to Martin and asked, "You think he will be able to do it?"

"I don't know. But I think it's going to be harder than he thinks it is. I threw rocks at them several times and I never came close to hitting any." Martin replied.

Rudolph said thoughtfully, "You know what else? If he manages to kill anything, and that's a big if, he's got to clean it. You know Chekov won't help him now, and it's harder than it looks. I watched Pav do it. You can't make too deep of a cut or you spill the guts all over everything. It's way harder than cleaning a fish. And you got to get the head off, which means you got to cut through the neck. The spine makes a grisly noise. I was kind of impressed with little Pav. He did it slick as a whistle. Frankly, I don't think most of you pretty boys from command could handle it." He paused and then grinning added, "Fifty credits Tim pukes half way through."

Martin grinned too. He said, "I'm not taking that bet. I got no money left. But let's try and vid it when he does! People would pay to watch. And we can run it on continual loop at the Christmas party."

The two young men shook hands, clearly delighted with their plan. The nurse interrupted by saying, "Have you considered that exposing meat to digestive bacteria by unclean slaughter methods considerably raises the risk of contamination?"

"Have I considered it?" said Rudolph in a happy tone. "Why Nurse Sascheja, I can hardly consider anything else! In fact, I was just going to say that. You took the very words out of my mouth. Great insight, thanks! Thank you very much!"

Lieutenant Sascheja smiled proudly and stood a little taller. Martin dropped his head to hide his grin. Mr. Wilson looked confused. Ziem gave Rudolph a warning look, but he ignored her and placed an arm over the nurse's shoulders.

"Ma'am, you have really given us something to think about tonight. I tell you what; I am going to take the first watch. I want you to just run on off to bed, and I will use some of my down time here to compose a memo to Lieutenant Lapinski outlining some to the potential public health dangers of his plan."

Arm still over her shoulders, Rudolph began walking the nurse towards the tents, when suddenly he stopped. Looking at her with an admiring expression he said, "You know though, Miss Sascheja, on second thought, I could not possibly do the subject justice. It calls for superior medical knowledge, which means you are going to have to do it. I have a plan. You should get up early tomorrow. When Lieutenant Lapinski pulls out of his tent at 0545, you need to be waiting for him. Fill him in on all the details of the dangers of cross contamination. Be specific Lieutenant, because, who knows how little he may know on the topic. Now you know how he is, kind of cranky, but you stick to your guns. This is important information and he needs to hear it!"

The nurse, looking very happy, bustled off toward the tents. Ziem sighed and turned to the still grinning Rudolph, uncertain what she should say, but feeling that the situation should be addressed in some way.

"Don't even start Ziem." said Rudolph. "I already know what you are going to say. You are right. I am provoking trouble within the crew and distracting from the intent of the mission, and blah, blah, blah. I'm sorry and I won't do it again or whatever else you want me to say. But it's too late now to change anything, and you know Lapinski totally deserves it."

"Come on Ziem," added Martin in a wheedling tone. "Think about how happy it will make Ensign Chekov to see Lieutenant Lapinski receive one of Sascheja's lectures." He and Rudolph both grinned at her in a knowing way.

Ziem felt her throat tighten again in embarrassment. Determined to not give them any satisfaction she took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height. It gave her some pleasure to see their grins fade. She thought Mr. Martin actually looked nervous. She ignored him and glared at Randy.

In her most professional tone she said, "Mr. Rudolph, you have the first watch. In fact, the Chief stipulated that he wanted you to have the first two watches. Wake me at 0400, earlier if anything unusual happens."

"Yes Ma'am." said Rudolph respectfully.

She turned and nodded to Mr. Wilson. "Gentlemen, good night." she said firmly.

The three men responded quietly. She turned sharply and walked briskly toward the tents. she smiled to herself, because for the first time that day she felt competent and professional.


	6. Chapter 16-18

Chapter 16  
Morning, the Fourth Day

The next morning Ziem was wakened at 0400 by Rudolph. She remembered immediately that she was angry at him, but tried not to sound it when she advised him to grab a nap, since he would be on duty again at 0600. She built up the fire and then prepared the water and other supplies for the day's work. She set out the breakfast rations, and looked doubtfully at the few remaining main meals. The others had been correct. There was one beef and noodles, all the rest were fish. She considered briefly, and then tucked the beef and one of the salmon into her own pack. Rudolph had said she could just take what she wanted; she thought it would please Pasha if she gave the beef to him at lunch time. He deserved it she thought, and he seemed to have such strong feelings about the fish. Then she rummaged through the supplies until she found the chief's private stash. He always added a few things. She used his supply to make coffee from scratch. The chief believed the smell of real coffee was good for esprit de corps. She felt certain this group, on this mission, on this particular morning, was going to need all the help it could get.

At 0500, just as the sun began to rise, Chekov came by and set a pail containing some of the eggs on the fire. He asked her to stir it while he dug some more potatoes. Ziem thought he looked even scruffier than he had the night before. He explained he had pulled his sleeping bag into the sand by the senior officer's tent rather than spend the night in close quarters with Lapinski. He promised to go no further than the edge of camp to dig the roots, which he offered to share with Ziem, "But no one else, because I hate Lieutenant Lapinski."

"I know he was rude, but it seems like he did worse things before last night and it didn't bother you. Why are you so mad now?" Ziem asked.

Chekov shrugged, grabbed a spade, and started to drag it off in the direction of the river. Ziem could hear him muttering to himself, in Russian she assumed, as he went. She wondered if she should accompany him. The chief had said everyone was to have a security escort at all times. Before she could decide, he was out of sight. She told herself that going with him would have meant abandoning her current post. She hoped he would really stay within the camp confines.

He was safely back and poking at his breakfast by 0530. The exercise had improved his mood. He was cheerfully encouraging Ziem to finish the eggs when Lieutenant Sascheja left her tent and walked past them. Her blue uniform was crisp and her head held high. She nodded to Chekov and Ziem before positioning herself outside the junior officer's tent. She turned on a PADD and began working on it, dragging things from one area to another. She smiled, clearly pleased with whatever she saw. Chekov looked at Ziem questioningly. She shrugged in reply. Ziem thought Sascheja was probably organizing the talk Rudolph had suggested she have with Lapinski, but felt it was too hard a story to explain.

Shortly, Martin climbed out of the tent. He started to laugh when he saw the nurse and greeted her loudly enough to wake Rudolph, who bolted out, red eyed but grinning, clearly eager to see the little scene he had set up play out. Wilson followed Martin. He looked very tired and made straight for the coffee with appreciative murmurs. Lapinski came last. As soon as he exited the tent the nurse stepped in front of him.

"Have your plans changed?" she asked.

He looked at her critically and said, "What are you talking about?"

"My question concerns your stated plans to slaughter and then to butcher some of the local birds." said the nurse.

"Do you think I can't?" Lapinski asked.

Sascheja did not answer the question; instead she launched into a lecture on proper hygiene and animal slaughter techniques.

Lapinski frowned, but other than that, acted as if he couldn't hear her. He walked around her to the fire. She followed him closely, still talking. He poured himself a coffee and took one of the breakfast packs. He sat down on a stone, opened, and began to eat his food, all without acknowledging her. She continued to talk. Her voice grew shriller as she started to become frustrated by his lack of response. She asked him a question. She stared at him angrily, waiting for a reply. He ignored her. She answered. It made her sound silly, like she was correcting herself. Martin and Rudolph sat close together and giggled. Wilson stared at the nurse with his mouth hanging open. Chekov kept his head down and avoided looking at Lapinski. Ziem picked at her food, too worried to feel hungry. She felt certain that something bad was going to happen soon.

Her comm pinged. She picked it up and looked questioningly at Lapinski. He turned to the nurse and pointing at her said, "You, stop talking!" Surprised, the lieutenant paused with her mouth open. Lapinski nodded at Ziem. Obediently she opened the comm.

"Chief?" she squeaked.

"Sabide, what is wrong with you? Why is it you cannot just speak in a normal voice over a comm?" Giotto sounded cranky already.

"I, I don't know sir. I just can't. I guess," she said in a voice even more quavery than usual. Lapinski rolled his eyes, Chekov looked up long enough to give a quick, sympathetic glance. Ziem felt herself start to blush again.

She knew the chief would not care how she felt about what was happening at camp. Good security officers did not allow anything to deter them from their duty. It was the mission that was important, not the individuals participating. How could she possibly think she could defend the Federation from all threats when she could not tolerate four young men and a nurse teasing each other? If she were to have any chance of moving into leadership she needed to regain her focus. She turned her back on the others, cleared her throat, and started again in a stronger voice. "But I can report sir that we uh, had an uneventful night and um, are just about ready to go into the field. How is it with you?"

"I too had an uneventful night." the chief said. "That may not be true of everyone in the party however. In fact judging from the smells emanating from the bedrolls of my fellow officers, many of them had quite eventful nights. Not that most of them are awake enough to discuss it, but I have spoken to Mr. Spock and his interpretation supports mine."

"Yes sir," Ziem said uncertainly. Rudolph laughed. She wondered if she had something stuck on her back.

Giotto said, "Nothing has happened since our arrival that required defensive action on our part."

"Well, uh, that's good at least," said Ziem. "So you probably don't have any idea when we could expect you back then?"

"No I do not. Our hosts haven't roused themselves yet, but I have heard they are planning to serve breakfast. I wouldn't count on us for hours lieutenant, certainly not until afternoon. I of course plan to strenuously oppose any sightseeing side trips, but nothing has happened this mission to give me any reason to expect that my recommendations will be accepted. It is possible we may not be back until nightfall."

Rudolph threw his head back and mouthed a silent "Yeah!"

"That late?" asked Ziem.

"Yes that late. I'll check in at noon, earlier if anything changes. We'll continue to ping hourly. Keep an eye on things there Sabide, don't let people relax. Relaxing leads to carelessness."

Rudolph laughed harder, Martin joined him. "Yes sir," Ziem said, blushing harder. Rudolph was making her feel very self-conscious. It was difficult to ignore him. She wondered if it was possible to put someone on report for their sense of humor.

"If that's it Sabide I think I'm going to go allow myself the pleasure of waking Hendorff. Giotto out."

Ziem closed her comm and looked at Lapinski, who said nothing, but stared off into space with a thoughtful expression.

"Poor Geoff, imagine having to wake up to the chief kicking your bed. I'm glad I'm not him." said Rudolph. "Well that was funny. Did you ever notice how he chief hates everything? It's hilarious. And at least we know we have some time before they get back. What's the plan Tim?"

Lapinski nodded his head like he had made a decision then turned to the security guard and in a business like voice said, "The plan Mr. Rudolph, is for you all to get to work. The teams for today are as follows: Chekov and Sascheja, Martin and Wilson. Eat up. You have ten minutes before you hit the ground."

Martin rolled his eyes at Lapinski's word choice, but joined Chekov in a murmured acknowledgement of the orders.

"I wasn't planning," began Mr. Wilson, Lapinski turned to him with a belligerent look. "Oh never mind," finished the geologist feebly.

"Report back here at 1300 hours. We'll break half an hour for lunch and then return to the field for another shift."

"Might I ask if you will be joining us sir?" asked Rudolph in a highly respectful tone. Ziem looked at him, uncertain if he was teasing, trying to provoke the lieutenant, or actually interested.

"You might. And because I want to, I will even tell you. I am going out to get the stupid birds. We will eat them for lunch. You said that's what you wanted. Far be it for me to let you down." Lapinski sounded fierce, like he was daring Rudolph to argue.

"You better take Chekov with you." said Rudolph. Ziem wondered if he were constitutionally unable to tell when he was bothering people.

"I want to be in the field." said Chekov to the ground.

"No one asked, and you'll do as you are ordered." Lapinski snapped, narrowing his eyes as he glared at the younger man.

Chekov glanced up, muttered "Yes sir." and looked away again.

"And you're ordered to report to the field in..." Lapinski checked the chrom on his comm. "eight minutes."

"I would like to finish our discussion," began Lieutenant Sascheja.

"Tell him." said Lapinski, jerking his head toward Chekov. "He's your work buddy and he's a super smart guy. He is always interested in new information."

Miss Sascheja looked frustrated, closed her lips tightly and stared disapprovingly at Chekov, who smiled weakly and excused himself to get the tricorders.

"Get ours too, will you?" Martin called after him. Then he turned to Lapinski and said, "Who's going to be your security escort sir?" He used the same mocking, respectful tone Rudolph had.

"I don't need an escort." Lapinski said. "The birds aren't going to kill me."

Ziem opened her mouth to disagree, but Rudolph beat her to it. "The chief said no one goes anywhere without an escort. You can order up whoever you chose, as long as it's either me or Sabide." Lapinski glared at him and Rudolph added, "Sir."

"Sabide, you're with me. The rest of you have five minutes to get finished and get out." snapped Lapinski.

Chekov returned with the tricorders. As he handed them out Lieutenant Sascheja began again to explain her concerns with Lieutenant Lapinski's plan. Perhaps because the lieutenant had been so unreceptive, she seemed to have decided to share her thoughts with the whole group. She spoke in her usual accusing way. After just a few minutes Martin and Wilson got up and left, walking in the direction of the field. Rudolph followed them. He was eating a breakfast bar and still occasionally snickering. Only Chekov stayed to listen, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, and tried several times without success to interrupt her. Finally he sighed and looked up at Lapinski entreatingly.

"Ensign." barked Lapinski, loud enough to startle and stop the nurse. "Get going. You're late."

"Yes sir." said Chekov, he touched the lieutenant's arm and added, "Ma'am? Shall I show you where we shall be working today?"

Sascheja didn't acknowledge him. She shut off her PADD and picked up her tricorder. Her face flushed an angry orange. Her round eyes began to bulge, protruding slightly from her face. They turned an even darker orange than her skin. Hugging the machines closely to her body, she began to walk briskly towards the worksite.

Ziem had known other Venzi; the facial discoloration was involuntary, like her own blushing. They only did it when they were very upset. The swollen, bloodshot eyes were another sign of distress. She had always considered it to be the Venzi equivalent of crying. Lieutenant Sascheja was obviously very upset. Ziem wondered if she was angry because she had been up all night preparing the unlistened to lecture, or embarrassed because she realized she had been set up. Ziem wanted to say something comforting, or at least look sympathetic, but the nurse didn't make eye contact as she went past. Chekov hurried to catch her and then trotted beside her for several steps, looking at the older woman with concern.

"Ma'am," Ziem heard him say in a quiet voice, "you didn't finish describing to me what you learned from your research."

The nurse stopped and stared suspiciously at the ensign. He smiled his nervous little smile and added, "I think you mentioned the importance of fresh water?"

Lieutenant Sascheja cleared her throat, blinked her eyes several times and then said, "Yes. Well, a source of readily available fresh water is essential. Perhaps ensign, you would enjoy seeing the slides I prepared? They are quite informative." She hit the switch and handed him her PADD. She continued to talk as they walked, her voice growing stronger as she went on. He loped awkwardly beside her, attention shifting from the PADD to her face, and then to the horizon as he kept trying to guide her towards their work.

Watching them Ziem felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked and shook her head hard. _I am getting tired and that is making me overly sensitive,_ she thought. _We all are, it is probably half of what's bothering Lieutenant Sascheja._ She had often heard the chief say exhaustion made for easily provoked and sloppy crews. She decided that at every level she was going to demonstrate better control over herself. She took a deep breath and turned to Lapinski, who was the commanding officer, no matter what she thought of him. She prepared to hear and follow his orders enthusiastically.

"God he's an idiot." remarked Lapinski staring after Chekov and Sascheja. He sounded uninterested, like he was talking about the weather.

Resolve immediately broken, Ziem snapped, "I was just thinking that he is a remarkably kind young man."

"You say kind, I say idiot. Potato, potahto." laughed Lapinski.

Ziem stared at him in confusion.

"Never mind," he said, still laughing, "Earth thing. It means we all just see things the way we want to."

Ziem tightened her lips and did not reply.

"Okay then security escort, let's go get some birds." said Lapinski in a friendly way. He started to walk towards the river, but stopped and asked Ziem where she thought would be the best place to go.

Chapter 17  
Morning to Noon, the Fourth Day

It was a long, long morning. Lieutenant Lapinski began it in a good mood. He was confident and friendly. Ziem could even see why he was so popular. He talked about his plans in a way that made her feel like she was a valued member of his bird killing team. At one point they were climbing over a little rise, and he offered her a hand up over a rocky patch. It was an empty gesture, as she outweighed him, but he did it in such a kindly way that she wasn't embarrassed. He asked her opinion on hunting sites and techniques, and listened carefully without seeming angry that she had so little advice to give. He opened his pack and showed her several snares he had made with rope from the emergency supplies. They were professional looking, and Ziem was impressed. They had taken him most of the night to construct. When she told him he should have gotten some rest, he replied that this project was important too, in the serious way that Ziem liked to hear missions discussed.

When they reached the river Ziem showed him the nesting area. He sat down on the ground and opened his PADD. Peering over his shoulder, Ziem saw that he was checking some articles about using the snares. Ziem approved of researching one's assignment prior to beginning work. She began to hope Lieutenant Lapinski might be successful.

After several minutes of review, he shut down the PADD and went to work. First he set out the snares in several areas. He tied one end of each to a small bush and buried them. Then he spread the noose like part on the ground and baited it with bits of rolls he had saved from breakfast.

"If they jar the rope the branch springing up will set the trap." He explained. "Or I can pull them from a distance using this part." He showed her a long string coming from one trap. "We will see which one works better."

Smiling, he settled down to watch the traps. He whistled happily to himself as he waited. Ziem sat down by him and watched too. Once the sun was completely above the horizon, the birds arrived.

They moved out from the nesting area, flying away or waddling along the ground diving after the wriggling bugs that made up much of their diet. They squawked and fussed, and periodically lunged at each other in brief tussles. What they didn't do was spring a snare. Several walked in the direction of the traps, and Ziem would feel her hopes rise, but as soon as they got close each one took to the air, squealing an alarmed call that made every bird in the area go skyward.

After forty minutes Lapinski was no longer whistling. He told Ziem to go walk through the nesting grounds and try to drive some of the birds toward the snares. She did so, but not happily, as the birds were thick and messy. The plan didn't work. Several times she got the birds moving ahead of her, but they would panic, and fly back toward the nests. They all seemed to fly right over Ziem, with the usual result.

Eventually Lapinski came out and joined her. They tried to work as a team, and funnel the birds between them. They tried walking slowly, calmly encouraging the animals. They tried running into a crowd of the birds, screaming and waving their arms. Neither method was better for getting the birds to go where they were supposed to.

After nearly two hours, Lapinski abandoned the snares. He tried to just chase the birds down and grab them with his hands. He had no success. Next he tried to hit them with rocks, but that didn't work either. In the air they never seemed to fly where the rock was going, and on the ground they dodged surprisingly well.

Lapinski was swearing and sweating, and no longer friendly. Ziem tripped while trying to maneuver one bird into a blind. She hit the ground hard, Lapinski yelled at her to get back at it. She wasn't hurt and bounced up quickly, but shot him an angry look that he didn't acknowledge.

Finally, after several hours, Lapinski collapsed. Ziem stood by him, waiting to hear what his next idea would be. He lay in the sand, gasping. When he finally caught his breath, he began to mutter to himself, mostly about birds, stupid, stupid birds. He looked more and more frustrated. Finally he sat up and smacked the ground with both fists. He roared in the direction of the nesting area. Startled, Ziem stepped back.

Lapinski turned to her, face red and sweaty, and snarled, "Give me a phaser."

"You're supposed to go through security to be issued a weapon on this mission." said Ziem.

"I am going through security. You're it. I just told you to issue me a phaser."

He looked so angry Ziem felt she should explain protocol to him. "Sir, I am sure you know the guidelines, we are in no danger, it would not be appropriate for me to issue you a weapon."

I'm not using it as a weapon." stopping himself, Lapinski continued in a calmer voice, "Listen Sabide. I am just going to be using it for target practice. We do that all the time on these little backwater planets. It's no big deal. This time the targets just happen to be those stupid birds."

Ziem wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, she did have a spare phaser in her pack. It was standard to have one available for members of the crew to assist in defending themselves in the event of an attack. As ranking officer, Lapinski would have been her first choice for it should the need arise. She knew he was qualified on the weapon. And she had been present on other missions when the chief had allowed crew members to take target practice. On the other hand, although he seemed better, minutes before he had been acting irrationally. She wasn't sure he was a good candidate for possession of a deadly weapon. She wished the chief had left more specific instructions.

"Sabide, enough, I'm the commanding officer and I am ordering you to get me a phaser." Lapinski said smoothly, sounding perfectly in control of himself and very much like he expected to be obeyed.

Ziem sighed and reached for her pack. She said, "Sir, you are the acting commanding officer, and the rules apply to you too. I have no choice but to report this."

"Report away. My report will present my version of the event. I am not worried. Now step off and let me shoot some birds."

Ziem removed the weapon from her pack. She handed it to him. He checked the safety and began to sight it.

"You do realize that even on the lowest stun setting that is far too powerful a blast for such a small animal?" asked Ziem.

Lapinski held the weapon down and began to walk after the flock. He said, "We shall see. I have an idea."

"I am sure you do." muttered Ziem as she followed.

His plan, as far as Ziem could tell; he did not discuss it with her, was to try to hit the bird on a wing or tail. Even on stun the weapon would vaporize such a small target, and the bird would be rendered unable to fly. She assumed he planned to walk along picking up disabled birds and dispatching them.

Lapinski's luck did not change. Phasers were not designed for precision shooting. He was a pretty fair aim, and hit some of the birds, but it would have taken a far better marksman than he to take out something as small as a wing of a flying bird with an energy weapon. All of the animals he hit disappeared in a brief burst of light.

As he grew angrier his shots got a little more erratic. She warned him twice and then backed away, to watch at a safer distance. At noon, while Lapinski continued to shoot at birds, her comm sounded. With no audience she was able to answer it in a calm, professional manner. Chief Giotto didn't notice.

"This is Sabide." she said.

"Sabide, Giotto here." said the chief.

"Hello Chief! I have almost nothing of note to report." Ziem decided to put as positive spin on the morning as she could, while still speaking the truth. She continued, "Lieutenant Lapinski has left the main group to gather samples and take some target practice. I felt I had to accompany him and left Rudolph with the rest of the party. I have checked in with Rudolph several times and he says it has been an uneventful morning. We are to reconvene at 1300."

"Target practice! That lazy bastard. Did he not hear me specifically say that you were to stay together as much as possible? Not to mention we were on a tight schedule before all these...unplanned for...contingencies started popping up. We are never going to get off this planet. Tell him to get back to work." Hearing Mr. Giotto say exactly what she was thinking made Ziem feel vindicated.

"Sir, I have said just that several times. He believes as acting commander that he has some freedom to interpret the orders. Realistically, I do not see any threats, but I am concerned that he is running down the charge on a phaser unnecessarily." she said.

"I agree with your assessment Sabide." Then uncharacteristically, Giotto added in a quiet, bitter voice, "It's the yellow shirts Sabide. You'll find out, the more of this you do. You can ask them what they want, and plan accordingly. You can involve them in making the plans, think they are on board, and then when they start going sideways you can remind them of the plans. But it won't matter. They will still do whatever the hell they want in whatever way they want."

Ziem thought he must be finding his trip very frustrating to be confiding in her. She cleared her throat and said, "Yes sir. Any idea when we should expect you?"

Giotto sighed. "No. We are just packing up the vehicles with picnic supplies. We are going on a little sightseeing trip, and then going to have lunch, late, because so many people wanted to sleep in. We just finished breakfast. It may be hours yet before finally, we will start back. No one can agree to a timeline. In fact no one will even estimate a time for any of these activities. I have asked our hosts repeatedly, have told them I would appreciate even a rough estimate, and all they ever say is that we should thank them for taking us away from the survey work, which they claim is a waste of time. They are impossible. I am beginning to doubt that these beings even understand the concept of time. And the captain is finding that charming. Frankly, I don't see how the Phadruans ever got into the Federation."

"Yes sir, very frustrating sir. Well. We will track you, and I will ping you hourly." Ziem couldn't think what else to say.

"I agree Sabide. I will call again at 1800. Tell Lapinski I said to shut off the weapon and see if he could actually get some work done, not that I expect him to listen. The yellows never do. Giotto out." Without waiting for reply, Mr. Giotto terminated the conversation as he always did, by abruptly slamming shut his comm.

Ziem looked around for Lapinski. She didn't hear him or the phaser. She had been so involved in her conversation with the chief that she hadn't noticed when he stopped shooting. The silence made her nervous; she was just reaching for her visor when she saw him. He was a dozen meters away, lying on his back, arms out, staring at the sky. Alarmed, she ran over to him.

He was red faced, and sweaty, streaked with the birds' white droppings. To cool himself he had pulled his shirt up, and he lay very still with his eyes closed. When her shadow fell across him he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Hey." he said as she bent over him.

"Are you alright lieutenant?" Ziem was worried that he might have stunned himself. It had happened before on away missions. So many beings refused to take the weapons seriously.

"I give up." Lapinski said quietly.

"Sir?"

"The stupid birds win. I give up." He raised his arm toward her. Ziem grabbed it and helped him to his feet.

"I am mad," he said.

He looked so tired and disappointed she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. She said, "You tried really hard. We just don't have the right supplies. The snares you made were amazing. They should have worked. I just don't think those stupid birds are smart enough to recognize bread crumbs as food." She tried, but couldn't think of much else encouraging she could say.

He smiled wearily. "Yeah, well that's nice of you, but the point is they didn't work. Nothing did. Now I get to go admit it in front of everyone." He sighed as he spoke. Ziem felt even worse for him. She knew she wouldn't want to confess failure to Martin and Rudolph. She hoped they would be kind. She doubted they would be. He sighed and handed her the phaser. Together they started the long walk back to the base camp.

"Only one thing makes me feel a little better." said Lapinski.

"What's that?" asked Ziem.

"I do get the pleasure of ordering my least favorite subordinate to spend his whole afternoon failing too." said the lieutenant.

Ziem turned to stare at him.

"Yes," he said contentedly, "It's only a little after noon. Ensign Chekov is still in the field. Let's go find him and I will share the good news. That is a thought that definitely gives me a lot of pleasure."

Chapter 18  
Early Afternoon, the Fourth Day

Chekov stood with his arms crossed defiantly, looking up at Lapinski with distaste. "Sir, I already explained that I do not wish to do this." he began again.

"Let me be clear. I do not care what you wish, and I am not asking what you want. I am telling you that you are going to go kill some birds. Say eight. Yes, kill eight birds and don't return to camp until you do." Lapinski didn't sound angry at all. He sounded like the team captain outlining a play.

Chekov stared doubtfully at the lieutenant for a few seconds. "Ensign Chekov," Lapinski said. "You said you could do it. You insisted you could do it. If you were just showing off, well, I would understand. You do that a lot. Just admit it, and we will all go back to work." Chekov frowned and looked away. Lapinski smiled. Ziem wondered again at his ability to take pleasure from other's discomfort.

"Admit it," the lieutenant said again.

Chekov slipped off his tricorder and handed it to Lapinski. "It will take me several hours. I will have to clean them after I kill them. I will call on the communicator if I will be much later than 1700." he said.

"Fine." said Lapinski.

Chekov turned to Rudolph and asked, "Could I please use your knife again?"

Randy reached towards his boot but Lapinski interrupted him saying, "Oh no Rudolph. You just go with him. Sabide will relieve you and then you and Chekov can go have fun. I am excited to see you tonight with all the birds you take. We will have a regular feast. In fact, I stopped at camp and grabbed you both lunch rations so that you can get right to it. Eat them on the way. No sense in wasting time."

Lapinski reached into his pack and pulled out two of the salmon packs. Rudolph took one but Chekov only shook his head.

"Suit yourself, but that's lunch. If you faint I am not carrying you." said Lapinski.

"I won't faint." said Chekov quietly, and then added, "Sir."

Ziem remembered the rations she had slipped into her own pack that morning. She pulled them out and called to Chekov. He looked over at her and she handed him both packs. When he saw the beef noodle label he looked up at her with one of his beautiful smiles. He shrugged an apology to the rest of the group but said, "Thank you Ziem," to her.

Ziem felt her pulse jump, and a blush creep up her cheeks.

"You got the beef? No fair." said Rudolph, peering over his shoulder.

"Yes fair." said Ziem firmly. "You all admitted yesterday I could take whatever I wanted. Well I did. And then I gave it to him. So do you have a problem with that Randy?"

Rudolph gave Ziem an appraising look, and then said, "Actually no."

"I don't care how you feel about anything," said Lapinski. "Get walking."


	7. Chapter 19, 20

Chapter 19  
Afternoon, the Fourth Day

The afternoon passed dusty, hot, and full of bird shit. Ziem was busier than on previous days, as she was the only security guard she had farther to walk and more notations to take, but the work was still not demanding. Neither Lapinski nor Sascheja spoke, not to each other and not to her. She enjoyed her time with Martin and Wilson more. Wilson was the first crew member she had worked with on the mission who seemed to pay any attention to the actual work. When she visited with him he described the terrain from a geological standpoint, and talked about its evolution. He couldn't make Phadru's desolation interesting, but he did make it less boring, and she enjoyed the time she spent with him. Martin was pleasant each time she checked in with him, although he did pump her for details of the morning's hunt. She didn't trust him not to use anything she said to try and make Lapinski mad, and so told him as little as was politely possible, but that did not deter him from asking.

At 1700 Lapinski got on the comm and sent out a group message.

"Hey," he said. "It's been ten hours. I say we head back to camp. I could use a swim and maybe some dinner, even if it is going to be more fish."

The crew began to shut down the equipment and gather together for the walk back to camp. Everyone looked tired; Lapinski's eyes were ringed with red. They all moved slowly, like they were old. No one talked much.

They had gotten just close enough to see the camp when Lapinski broke the silence to tell them to leave their tricorders by the map. He said Chekov would need to clean them when he got back and it would be better to have them all together.

"Seriously Tim?" asked Martin.

"Let me think," said Lapinski. "Yes."

"You don't think spending the whole afternoon chasing after birds is enough? You want him to spend the evening cleaning up after them too?,"

"Are you offering to do it for him?" Lapinski asked. "Because if you're not, then shut up. It has to be done and it's his job. And Spock wants him to check the data before we download it anyway."

"You know," Martin continued, "when he finally drags in empty handed we still won't have anything he's willing to eat for dinner."

"That is not my fault. He's welcome to his share of what we have." Lapinski said.

"He can have mine," Wilson said mildly.

"And mine," Martin said.

Lieutenant Lapinski looked like he had a few more things he wanted to say, but Sascheja interrupted him by pointing in the general direction of the camp and asking, "What is that?"

Ziem saw a thin trail of white smoke drifting into the sky. Reaching into her pack she grabbed the extra phaser and handed it to a shocked looking Martin. Turning to the group she said, "Lapinski, stay with the crew. Try to find some cover. If you see or hear something bad, or if you don't hear from me in ten minutes, call the ship and ask for emergency transport out. Come on Martin, you're with me." Without looking to see if her orders were followed, she drew her phaser and started to jog towards camp.

"Do we call the ship?" Martin asked.

"Not yet, I want an idea of what we are up against, and it may be nothing, it is probably nothing, just more Phadruan visitors. I don't want to panic."

"Then what's the plan?" asked Martin shakily, he had to run hard to keep up with her.

"We split up; you go around and come in from the north side. Don't be seen, and don't go in until we have some sort of idea what we are up against. Silence your comm, but if you're secure call me when you get in position. Call for help at the first sign of something bad."

"Aye sir," said Martin, turning left and running towards the far side of the camp.

Cursing the stark Phadruan landscape, Ziem tried to be careful as she got closer to the camp. Eventually she dropped to the ground and crawled up a small rise to peer from behind some rocks. Nothing on the plain was going to completely hide her, but she hoped she was less obvious. She could see no one. Their camp site looked unchanged from when they had left it that morning. The smoke continued to rise fitfully, there was never a lot and it didn't rise steadily like it came from something that was burning. She couldn't see its source; it seemed to be coming from the area of the fire pits, behind the tents, but she wasn't sure.

She put on her visors and checked the camp carefully. The visors were helpful, but not perfect. They let her see heat. If there were living beings in the camp she should be able to make out their figures, get an idea of numbers and perhaps species. But even under the best of circumstances the visors were only minimally helpful, and the heat from the Phadruan sun reflecting off the tent walls interfered with them quite a bit. She strained her eyes and looked around the camp. She thought she saw some movement by the fire pits. She looked harder and saw it again. She couldn't see any details, just movement and rough size, but there seemed to be at least half a dozen large humanoid figures. Staying low, she went closer.

Entering the camp Ziem moved slowly and used the tents as cover as she worked her way to the fire pits. She paused behind the tent closest to the pits. The afternoon was so still that even from that distance she could hear voices. She froze, and listened intently, trying to identify the language.

"Jim I am telling you, you need to talk to the quartermaster. No one ever eats these salmon ration packs. That's all that's left here. It's ridiculous to even send them out. It wastes time to pack them and it wastes time to return them to stock. Just ban them from the ship and have done with it." The voice was a man's, speaking perfect Standard.

"Doctor, while I acknowledge that all beings have flavors they prefer to others, over attention to such matters, like most purely sensory experiences, may become a distraction from the work at hand. As all the rations are equally nutritious, undo concern about taste, texture, or packaging is not conducive to the success of this, or any, mission." The second voice, also speaking in Standard seemed familiar to Ziem. The speaker sounded serene, calm. She attempted to peep around the tent, but the angle was wrong.

"Bones is right Spock. I'm not eating that. No one should eat that. I will take it up with the quartermaster. And you know what else I am going to say? If the mission is supposed to last less than a week I don't think it would kill them to toss in some fresh actual food. Fruit wouldn't take up any more room than artificial fish does. It wouldn't be such a big deal having horrible meals if people could at least have a snack." The third voice, strong and friendly, Ziem knew immediately. Without lowering her weapon she stepped around the tent.

"Captain Kirk?" she asked.

The captain, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy had the ration box open and were examining the leftover packages. The chief was leaning against the makeshift table it sat on, his back to them, his arms crossed and an angry look on his face. Hendorff was in the pit, ineptly feeding kindling to a very balky fire. Tremaine sat on one of the rock stools, watching Hendorff and grimacing as she used her hand to wave the smoke away from her face. Uhura was seated next to her, and next to her was Burri, the Phadruan driver. He had a small universal translator on his lap. The captain grinned when he saw Ziem.

"Lieutenant, what did you guys do with all the rest of the food?" he asked.

"Stand down Sabide. We're back." said the chief in a resigned voice. He did not sound any happier than he looked, perched as far away from the other senior officers as he could be and frowning.

Ziem holstered her weapon and after a glance at the chief opened her comm.

"Martin?" she asked.

"I can't see anyone from this angle Lieutenant, but I can see that box like vehicle the captain's group took to the party. I wonder if it could the away team come back early?" whispered Martin.

"Come on in Martin. It is the chief. Oh, and the captain and everyone. I guess you're right, they got back early. Call Lapinski and have him come on in too." Ziem said. Certain now that there was no danger, she began to feel angry. Ignoring everyone else she turned to Chief Giotto. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Giotto said, "I apologize for not notifying you of our arrival Sabide. It turns out Burri can actually drive much faster than he did on the way to the compound. The trip home was significantly quicker, which we didn't realize until we arrived about half an hour ago. The captain thought it would be fun to surprise everyone." His tone improved Ziem's mood, even made her smile a little. This mission was hard on the chief. She knew what he thought about fun in general, and fun preventing him from following established, agreed upon routines was more than he could tolerate gracefully.

The captain smiled too and said, "We planned to have dinner waiting for you, but no one can eat this crap. We were just discussing what to do. I don't suppose there are any decent rations left?"

"There isn't anything else sir. The uh, visitors ate a great deal. Mr. Lapinski requested more from the ship, but they refused until they heard it from you. They can only respond when the assigned CO orders additional supplies." Ziem realized that she was explaining regs to the captain of a starship and cut herself off. Captain Kirk did not seem to mind. He was listening like it was perfectly normal for lowly lieutenants to tell him how Starfleet worked. She felt very foolish and wished she had said less. She looked over at the chief to see what she should be doing. He nodded at her. He seemed happier. It occurred to her that he was probably reassured to know that someone, somewhere, was following the regulations.

"Yeah, I know," said the captain. "I've had this happen before, it's inconvenient."

"You could occasionally try staying with the original mission plan." said Dr. McCoy. "Then it wouldn't be such a problem."

Chief Giotto smiled approvingly. The captain rolled his eyes.

Ziem felt compelled to add, "I am sure they will send more as soon as you call. We have been making do with what we have." Behind the captain Geoff stepped out of the fire pit so he could see her. He smiled encouragingly and waved. Ziem sighed and hoped she wasn't blushing again.

Martin trotted into camp Then Lapinski arrived from the opposite direction with the rest of the team. There were greetings and explanations. It was noisy until the chief asked where Rudolph was.

"He's still in the field with Mr. Chekov sir." answered Ziem.

"Why aren't they with the rest of you?" asked the captain.

"Perhaps Mr. Lapinski should explain." Ziem said, hoping her voice didn't sound as satisfied as she felt to be finally able to say it.

Giotto turned to Lapinski, clearly expecting an explanation. The lieutenant didn't answer for a few seconds, but stood with a thoughtful expression, like he was reasoning out what to say.

"Lapinski, where is Chekov?" asked Captain Kirk in a much sterner voice than Ziem had heard him use before.

"Well," began Lapinski. "You know the ration situation sir. I had an idea to supplement our food sources."

Martin interrupted. "Wait," he said, "I think that may be them."

Lapinski stopped speaking and looked the direction Martin was pointing. Ziem thought he seemed relieved. She turned and could see Chekov and Rudolph before they saw her. They weren't paying much attention, were just wandering their way through the tents, coming gradually toward the fire. Chekov was walking almost sideways, looking up at Rudolph and speaking very enthusiastically. Rudolph was laughing at whatever it was he heard. They were filthy, far worse than any of the survey takers. Their uniforms were crusted with dirt and streaked with bird waste. There were feathers stuck to their uniforms. And they were each carrying four dead, plucked and gutted birds, two in either hand.

They came around the last tent. Rudolph saw the crew first; he stopped abruptly and stared at them with a surprised expression. Chekov stopped talking and turned to see what Rudolph was looking at. He looked shocked, and then dismayed. He glanced at Mr. Spock, then down at the birds in his hands. He frowned.

"You're back." said Rudolph.

"Hey." said Hendorff. "You two don't look good."

"What have you been doing?" Lieutenant Uhura asked.

Chekov crossed his arms defensively over his chest. The dead birds swung gently back and forth beside him. His hands were stained a rusty brown, and his face was streaked with the same color. Ziem suspected it was dried blood. He bit his lower lip and frowned at Lapinski.

"My God Jim, we were gone for a day and a half and it turned into Lord of the Flies around here." said the doctor.

"And Pav, I think we all know who's Simon on this island." the captain said kindly.

Chekov looked up at the sky and muttered under his breath.

"Wow." said Rudolph, looking down at his companion. "You're right. Russian swear words really do sound scarier than Standard ones."

Chekov gave Rudolph a scathing look, then reached over and yanked the dead birds out of the taller man's hands. He stomped over to Lapinski.

"Sir," he said sulkily. "Here, as per your orders, are eight chickens. They are cleaned and ready to cook. If it is convenient sir, I would like to bathe before I start on the tricorders, sir." Chekov held out the birds.

"The captain's back ensign, you can report to him." said Lapinski, gesturing towards Kirk.

Chekov turned to the captain, who said, "I heard. Go. Cleaning up is a great idea. In fact, don't even feel like you have to wear that shirt tonight if you can't get it a lot cleaner. Just save it for when you are by yourself in the field tomorrow."

"Where do you want the chickens?" asked Chekov.

"Set them over on the table I guess. Did you really kill those things?" asked Kirk.

"Yes sir," said Chekov unhappily.

Burri had jumped up and pushed his way to the front to stand next to the captain. He looked at the birds appreciatively and said, "Excellent hunting Pavel Andreievich Chekov. Too bad you didn't get enough for us all, but I will add some things and we will eat well tonight! What did you use to get these? Did you envelope them in a force field? Use traps? Net?"

Chekov didn't answer. He stood at rigid attention, stared steadily at the air between the captain and the doctor and didn't say anything.

"Chekov?" asked the captain. "Aren't you going to tell us how you kill the birds?"

The ensign sighed and said quietly, "I used my blanket. Sir, I would like very much to go and wash."

"A blanket?" asked McCoy.

"Go, go." said Kirk with a run along gesture. Chekov trudged off, still looking unhappy. Rudolph watched him go, then turned and offered the chief an elaborate salute.

"Go clean up." Giotto said. Rudolph bowed and started after Chekov.

"Did he say he used a blanket?" asked Doctor McCoy.

"Lieutenant Lapinski." Mr. Spock's composed voice cut through everyone else's chatter. "I would like to go over the work accomplished by the crew in our absence, and then discuss your decision to ignore the supplied rations in favor of the slaughter of local wildlife."

Lapinski rolled his eyes, but replied "Yes sir." in a hearty, enthusiastic manner. He followed the Vulcan first officer toward the map. Martin watched them go, and then smiled happily at Ziem, who half expected him to rub his hands together in delight at his friend's predicament.

"Hey Burri," said Geoff. "Want me to help you?"

"Fine idea Geoff Hendorff, but first I will easily fix your laughable and unsuccessful attempt at a fire. You go and get us shovels. I can easily direct you where to dig. We will need lots more roots to make this bit enough for us all, but even more we will also need a fire that makes heat and not just smoke. How did you get to adulthood without competency at basic fire making skills?"

Martin, Tremaine, and Uhura all offered to go dig potatoes. The captain shocked Ziem by saying he would help too. Sascheja and Wilson offered excuses about needing to check on their own work and slipped away. Ziem sat down and pulled out her PADD, she knew Chief Giotto would want a detailed report and she wanted to review the last twenty four hours quickly first. While she waited Ziem could hear the doctor and the chief talking. The doctor looked very serious, like he had important questions.

"Giotto," McCoy asked. "Did you hear that boy just say he killed those birds with a blanket?"

Chapter 20  
Evening, the Fourth Day

Burri ground the potato like roots into a fine paste, and cooked them with a few pieces of the birds and some herbs he found, making a sort of stew with dumplings. He found some onion like plants, stuffed them into the remaining birds and roasted them together. Then he used the last eggs, more roots and onions to make a frittata like dish. It took some coaxing from Lieutenant Uhura, but Burri begrudgingly agreed to make a chicken free version of the stew for Mr. Spock. Even after he had begun to cook it he continued to complain, insisting the soup would not be worth eating without meat. Eventually the novelty of the challenge began to appeal to him, and he switched to bragging about what a fine cook he was to be able to make such an odd dish.

While the food cooked, Mr. Spock asked Burri many questions. He wanted to know all about the birds, were they migratory, did they have other breeding grounds; did the people of Phadru rely upon them for daily food? Then Mr. Spock began to ask the same sort of questions about the herbs and plants. Burri seemed to enjoy the interrogation. He answered every question thoroughly. Mr. Spock listened politely, although, Ziem reflected, most people would probably have preferred more direct answers. Burri tended to add long reflections on his own fabulous experiences as hunter, gatherer, and chauffeur, much of which seemed to Ziem to have very little to do with the original questions. Mr. Spock was patient. He listened to everything and did not interrupt, although occasionally he would ask Burri to repeat things that Ziem thought had nothing to do with birds.

When the meal was ready the captain made the crew wait until everyone was together around the fire and then thanked Burri for cooking. Burri was thrilled with the attention, and bragged until it was his turn to fill his plate. Then he ate seriously, not even bothering to look up, but chewing quickly and occasionally praising his own excellent cooking, loudly, and with his mouth full.

Burri was correct, the dinner was fantastic. Gradually the mounds of food began to disappear. People began to eat more slowly, and then to stop, eventually just sitting and visiting quietly, enjoying the evening. At length Doctor McCoy stood up and began to speak in a voice loud enough for the whole group to hear.

"That was a fine meal. I would go so far as to say it was the best meal I've had in some time and that would include the excellent one we had prepared for us last night at the home of our friends the Clan Truleyphadru. I want to acknowledge the cook one more time, thank you Burri." The crew all clapped and Burri bowed, beaming with pleasure. The doctor continued, "But there is one question I still have not gotten a satisfactory answer to, and I would like one. Ensign Chekov, why don't you explain just how you used a blanket to get us tonight's dinner?"

Chekov, who had been reserved and skittish all the meal, glanced nervously at Mr. Spock and murmured, "I don't wish to speak about it." He started to stand, Ziem got the impression he was going to leave.

"Sit Chekov," said the captain. The ensign sighed and dropped back to the ground. Uhura frowned at their commanding officer. He said to her, "I want to know what happened, look at it as giving report." He turned to the younger man and asked, "Chekov?"

The younger man did not look happy, but he straightened his shoulders, put his head up and said, "Yes sir. At approximately 1200 hours, following Lieutenant Lapinski's order I left the survey team to find and kill eight birds. Accompanied by Mr. Rudolph I went to the area I thought was most likely to facilitate me doing so. It is located in the center of section 7 gamma on the schematic for the mission, by the river. We were able to fulfill our mission without difficulty and returned to base at 1730."

Ziem was impressed. She thought Pasha had done an excellent job. His report was succinct but covered all the pertinent information. She hoped Geoff had been listening, he could benefit from copying his friend. She glanced at the chief to see if he had enjoyed it as much as she had. She was surprised to see Mr. Giotto was looking at the captain with his mouth oddly twisted. It was an unusual expression, one she had never seen him make before.

"You didn't explain the blanket." McCoy said gruffly. The ensign sighed and looked at the captain.

"Or anything else interesting. You managed to make the whole adventure sound very boring Mr. Chekov," agreed Captain Kirk. "I believe we talked about that before we left the ship."

"It wasn't though," said Rudolph. "It wasn't boring at all. You should have seen it. It was actually kind of amazing. First, he took his blanket and tied a rock into one corner. Not a big one, one he could throw easy but tht was heavy enough to pull the rest of the blanket along behind it. Then he used it kind of like a net. First he made us walk all the way over to the nesting grounds. We went clear to the middle where the nests are packed so close together. He said it would be easier if the birds were crowded. And he was right. It's total chaos over there. All the birds are flying around and landing on top of each other and eating. They wouldn't let him get close enough to grab them. But if he didn't move eventually they would get within a couple meters or so of him. He just sat there and waited until a close one shoved its head down in the dirt and then he would toss his blanket over it, kind of overshoot it with the weighted corner so the bird was actually under the blanket itself. Whenever he managed to get one covered, he would jump on the blanket and kind of kneel over it, holding down the four corners on the blanket. After a while, not long, a few seconds maybe, the bird would just calm down. So then he would reach under the blanket, grab the thing, pull it out, ring its little neck and toss it to me. It didn't work every time, but when it did it was slick as a whistle."

"With your bare hands?" asked Tremaine. Chekov nodded without looking at her. She made a sad little sound. Chekov shrugged, then drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He sat with his head resting on them, looking like he wished he were anywhere else.

"Please Beth, if you were going to object you should have done it before you ate them," said Rudolph. "Besides, it was fast. They didn't suffer. In fact it was so fast it didn't even bother their neighbors much. They would squawk and fuss when he jumped on one, but pretty soon they would have totally forgotten about it and be right back to feeding themselves. It was actually pretty easy, though it wasn't fun sitting perfectly still in the sun all afternoon. We underestimated how long it would take to clean them, or we wouldn't have been so late. We only had the one knife so I wasn't much help."

"Well I never met anyone who killed their own food before. It just makes me feel bad to think of the poor little birds." Tremaine said sadly.

"Shit filled, filthy chickens," corrected Chekov firmly.

"I grew up on a farm and I have killed a great deal of my own food." said Doctor McCoy. "Do you think whatever it was we ate at that feast last night wasn't alive at some point?" Turning to Chekov he asked, "Why didn't you just use a hatchet?"

Instead of answering, Chekov looked at Rudolph, who laughed and said, "Probably because I told him we didn't have any."

"We have hatchets and axes in the emergency supplies." said the chief.

"That's what he said!" laughed Rudolph. "I told him he was wrong."

"Rudolph, for the next month, after your regular shift, I am going to have you packing and unpacking the emergency supply kits. I hope it will help you remember what's in them next time you are in the field." snapped Giotto

"Okay, truthfully, I knew they were there chief, but we left from the field. I just didn't want to have to walk all the way back here to get them and then haul them around in that heat all day. We had a knife, and it worked out fine."

The captain turned to the chief and asked quietly, "Is he for real?"

Giotto looked at Rudolph with distaste. "Two months," he said coldly.

"Yes sir Mr. Giotto." said Rudolph resignedly.

"If you were out there all afternoon in that heat, how did you keep the meat from spoiling?" asked the captain.

"We built a little cooler in the river with rocks. We stored them there." answered Chekov.

"That was a good idea." said Captain Kirk.

"It was Lieutenant Sascheja's. I remembered her telling me moving water could be used to protect meat for short periods." Chekov said, nodding at the nurse, who sat up taller and looked Ziem thought, truly happy for the first time on the mission.

"A grasp of basic hygiene is of more benefit to the public than any other single health care issue. A good health care provider is prepared to educate underserved populaces on the topic at any time," the nurse said proudly. "I have saved and am prepared to share my research with the larger group Dr. McCoy."

"That won't be necessary," the doctor said quickly. The nurse looked disappointed and he added, "very impressive work though."

"I am impressed with Chekov." said Martin. He looked at his friend mischievously and added, "How about you Tim? Are you impressed? You probably are, because the ensign was impressive, right? Let's hear you say it."

Lapinski said bitterly, "Remind me Chekov, how do they score victories over poultry when they are ranking people for command school?"

Chekov glanced at the lieutenant, but didn't answer. He turned back to the fire and stared at it intently.

"You're jealous." Rudolph said.

"Mr. Rudolph, you are speaking to a superior officer," Giotto said. He sounded less angry than Ziem would have expected.

Rudolph nodded and said, "Sorry Chief Giotto." He turned to the lieutenant and said, "You're jealous sir." Martin choked off a laugh. The captain looked like he wished to join him.

Rudolph continued, "I mean, I've heard for a year now that he's a genius. I never believed it before, but watching him today I did."

"Are you saying," Geoff asked, "that nothing else he's ever done impressed you, but killing a bird does?"

"He killed eight birds." said Rudolph. After a beat he added, "Sir."

"Well, at least we know who's not a genius." the captain whispered to the chief, whose mouth did that odd twisty thing again.

Chekov frowned at the fire. Ziem watched at him curiously. Rudolph was complimenting him, in front of all the senior officers, and he was responding by pretending he couldn't hear. It made no sense to her. She could appreciate he did not wish to be disrespectful of their first officer. But Mr. Spock had barely commented on the birds-although that was perhaps natural, and Pasha had said Mr. Spock wouldn't act angry even if he was. Still, the captain was the real authority, and it was obvious he had been quite pleased by the catch. The rest of the crew had enjoyed the meal. She thought the hunting had ended up benefitting everyone. Surely he understood that supporting the team was more important than honoring an individual? He should be proud, not embarrassed. She wondered if she would ever completely understand humans.

"So is it true you were born this way?" Rudolph asked Chekov.

Chekov said quietly. "I knew what to do because I have done it before. In Taganrog there are chickens all over. My grandfather killed one out of his yard every Sunday. Sometimes I helped."

"Did he wrap them up in a blanket first?" asked McCoy.

Chekov sighed and shook his head. "Chickens don't fly in the dark. I made it dark for them and they didn't fight with me."

"Impeccable logic" said the doctor, nodding his head.

"Used to a very dubious end." said Mr. Spock, arching an eyebrow at McCoy. Chekov looked at him anxiously and then dropped his head to his knees again. Ziem wondered if she had underestimated Mr. Spock's distress, but he said no more.

"Captain," continued the first officer. "My discussions with the Phadruan driver Burri have convinced me that Mr. Chekov's terminology is essentially correct. The local birds are actually the descendants of escaped domesticated flocks. Burri states that while they do provide occasional protein in the diets of the local people, given the wealth of their society few Phadruan bother to hunt. The birds are prolific breeders, and not picky about either living or nesting environments. I see no reason their presence on this site should provide difficulties for the development of the planned facility."

"Great Spock." said the captain. After a pause he added, "What did that have to do with Chekov?"

Mr. Spock gazed impassively at the captain, before answering, "Chickens sir, the local birds are essentially chickens." Ziem had the feeling he was surprised at the question.

"Oh, sure." said the captain. Glancing down at the ensign he added, "Congratulations. Turns out you know your domestic fowl."

"He is a chicken super genius," whispered Lapinski. He spoke very quietly to Martin, who smiled, but Ziem heard him, and judging from Chekov's expression, he had too.

"Remind me to call the quartermaster in the morning." Kirk said to his yeoman. "We need more food and I get the feeling our mighty hunter wants to retire his blanket."

"Aren't we going home tomorrow?" asked Rudolph. "We can just wait until we get back to the ship to eat."

"We need to remain planet side at least two more days Mr. Rudolph." said Mr. Spock.

"Two days!" Martin and Rudolph said together. They sounded dismayed.

"Gentlemen, there are 153 man hours of work remaining in our assignment. We will be unable to finish the assignment in any less than two days." Ziem was beginning to realize that even without much emotion in his voice; Mr. Spock was able to give subtext to most things he said.

"But 153 hours is a lot more than two days." said Rudolph.

"Man hours, not hours," said Chekov quietly. Rudolph looked at him with confusion. "Oh never mind." said Chekov.

"Assuming full contingents of workers, we will be finished in two days." said Mr. Spock.

"Wait a second," interrupted Lapinski. "Are you saying sir, that your original estimates were wrong?" Looking at Chekov but speaking to Spock he added, "Are you saying you didn't actually know?"

Chekov turned on the lieutenant. He glared at him and said angrily, "He knew! The plan called for 4 teams of 2 workers doing 10 hour shifts. But since that actually happened exactly once on this mission we are behind. He wasn't wrong. We didn't work hard enough." Geoff kicked him lightly on the hip; Chekov sighed and added, "Sir."

"Mr. Chekov is again correct." said Mr. Spock. He seemed perhaps a little confused by the interaction between the two.

"Well, of course he is, he is after all the chicken super genius." said Lapinski.

"Hey mister," growled the chief.

"That's enough lieutenant." said the captain firmly. The two spoke at the same time. Lapinski didn't seem bothered and continued to smirk at Chekov who turned back to the fire. Uhura looked at him sympathetically.

Mr. Spock continued without acknowledging the interruption. "If four teams work 10 hours tomorrow we will have concluded 80 man hours of labor. We will send teams out again after a dinner break, thereby leaving less work for the next day. We will finish this assignment this week, tentatively on the second day from now. We shall certainly require more supplies to do so."

"I strongly suggest," said Dr. McCoy, "That we all get to bed now. Everyone is tired and we have a long day ahead of us."

"I concur." said Lieutenant Sascheja primly. The doctor shut his eyes wearily.

Chekov jumped to his feet and left without speaking. The rest of the crew began to stand and stretch and slowly make toward the tents. Geoff said he would take the first watch, and Ziem thanked him gratefully before joining the other women in their tent.


	8. Chapter 21

Chapter 21  
Morning, the Fifth Day

Ziem had a hard time getting out of her bag the next morning. When her alarm went off, she really wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep. She would have, if leaving the tent unobserved had been any less important to her. But she knew she would regret it if she didn't, so she forced herself up at dawn, slipped past her still sleeping tent mates, cleaned up, and then walked over to the fire pits for some breakfast. The chief had the watch; he was surprised to see her.

"You could sleep for another hour Sabide." He said, "There's nothing wrong with taking all the shut eye you're entitled to."

"I was ready to be up anyway sir; I thought I could relieve you." She didn't want to explain her worries about getting out of tents.

The chief nodded and said, "I understand, I am the same. Once the sun comes up I feel like I am missing something if I stay in the sack. You know Sabide, a need to be in on all the action is probably the single most common attribute I see in successful officers. I think you show great potential."

You do?" Ziem was surprised; it wasn't like the chief to dole out compliments.

"Absolutely, your attention to duty is commendable."

"I wouldn't say that sir, really it isn't." It bothered her to have her vanity mistaken for commitment. She didn't want to explain, but she didn't want praise she didn't deserve either.

Chief Giotto said kindly, "Just be assured, your dedication is noticed Sabide."

"I, um, yes sir." Ziem mumbled. She knew she should sound more enthusiastic, but couldn't. She knew she was blushing. Surely good officers didn't claim talents they didn't have? She wished she had stayed in the tent. She wondered if perhaps she should start trying to be the last one up on away missions. She would look less eager.

The chief didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "I love this time of morning," he said. He gazed around the camp and over toward the river. He continued in the same thoughtful tone, "I like the quiet. Take a look at that horizon will you? It's beautiful. I like Phadru. I don't pretend to care much for the locals, but I like the scenery. It's stark. I like watching the shadows move on it."

Ziem looked around, trying to seem interested in the landscape. She did not see much beauty in the Phadruan meadows. She just saw sand. But she didn't want to appear uninterested. So she helped herself to a mug of coffee, sipped it, and pretended to enjoy the view.

She heard laughter, and saw Chekov run up from the direction of the river. He skidded to a stop next to her, and still laughing, grabbed her arms from behind to turn her toward the river. He used her like a shield, and peered out from behind her at Geoff and Burri, who were just coming up from the same direction, also running. She spilled some coffee, but didn't mind. It made her feel included, like she was playing too. And then, she liked that he had a good grip; he was stronger than he looked.

"Hands off the lieutenant ensign." the chief said.

"Yes sir," Chekov said automatically, letting go. Peeping out from behind her he said to Geoff and Burri, "Look, Miss Sabide is here first, so she wins."

"Wins? You are saying she wins? She obviously does not win Pavel Andreievich Chekov; she was not competing, so she is not eligible to win. You do not understand even the basic rules of a race. Some genius you." Burri said angrily.

"If she doesn't win I win," Chekov laughed. "You definitely do not win Burri."

"Bah!" Burri said angrily. He shook both his fists in front of his face as he spoke. It was not a gesture Ziem had seen before, and she did not know what it meant.

"I win what?" Ziem asked.

Geoff said, "We agreed whoever got to the rations first could decide what we would drink with breakfast. You were here first, so it looks like you get to decide."

"The chief already made coffee," she said, holding up her mug.

"So really, I win!" Geoff said happily, and reached for the pot. "Bad luck for you Pav."

"Bah!" said Chekov, shaking his fists in front of his face like Burri had. He looked silly and sweet; Chief Giotto frowned at him. Ziem looked away to hide her smile. Geoff laughed so hard he spilled his coffee and had to sit down. Chekov sat down on the rock next to him and looked very pleased with himself.

Burri did not seem to enjoy the joke. He growled and said, "It sounds stupid coming from a Federation flunky servant Pavel Andreievich Chekov. You would need to be better dressed than you are to make it impressive."

Chekov patted his stained, stretched uniform top and said, "maybe, but I won the race, or Lieutenant Sabide won, or Lieutenant Hendorff won. You never won Burri."

Burri shook his hands and yelled, "Bah!" again, this time louder and more shrilly. Geoff and Pasha both copied him. Burri snarled at them and then said it again, even louder. They shook their hands at each other and snarled until one after the other, all three began to laugh.

"You are all in good moods," Ziem said.

"Yeah, and we shouldn't be. We spent the night on the ground by Burri's transport. The chief said I couldn't leave him alone, and Pav, um, Ensign Chekov didn't want to sleep in the tent anyway, so it seemed like the best thing." Geoff said. He grinned and added, "We planned to play cards, but we fell asleep too fast. The sun rising woke us up. It seemed like we were only out like seconds, I think we are all so past tired we are punch drunk."

"It is fun though," the ensign said.

"Even you're in a better mood." Ziem said to Pasha.

He replied cheerfully, "It was not possible that I could have been in a worse one." He slid over to the next rock, creating a space between him and Geoff. "Sit with us, and we can all eat together." he said, cocking his head and looking up at her like nothing would make him happier. She felt like she was too big for the rock stools, and would only look ridiculous awkwardly towering above him. But he patted the empty rock and smiled at her encouragingly. It was hard to say no to him. Ziem took a deep breath and sat down. Geoff looked surprised, but he smiled at her too, and she felt a little more comfortable.

"Burri is teaching us to swear in Phadruan." Pasha said. "It is fun Ziem, you should try it." He looked at Burri and said again, "Bah!"

"Shake your hands Pavel Andreievich Chekov, it means much less without the hands. And keep your teeth together. I have said that fifty times and you do not listen. Can you listen? You are least capable new language speaker I have ever experienced." Burri said angrily.

"You are not even close to the first person to say that Burri." said Captain Kirk. Ziem looked up; the captain seemed to have appeared as if by magic. He was standing by the table grinning at them all. She glanced at the chief uncertainly. She wasn't certain what they had decided, she wondered if she was now on duty and should have been paying more attention. She stood up, feeling guilty.

"Hello sir," she said, her voice sounded wavery again.

"At ease Sabide, hey Chekov, you are just who I wanted to see. I got you a present." the captain said as he helped himself to coffee. Chekov looked skeptical. With a flourish the captain handed him four ration packs. "Supplies arrived, and look what I took for you." he said.

"Mac and Cheese!" laughed the ensign.

"Yup, one for lunch, one for dinner, one for tomorrow's lunch, and one for tomorrow's dinner-in case we need it. Hide 'em so nobody gets jealous." He looked at Burri and Geoff and added, "Sorry guys, I didn't think. Do you want me to get anything for you?"

"Don't worry about it sir, I really don't care what we eat as long as there's lots of it. Burri's pretty much the same. Isn't that right Burri?" Geoff asked the Phadruan, who nodded and smiled, showing his pointy teeth.

"All your food is the same anyway, and small amounts like for tiny babies. I eat plenty like a Phadruan male." said Burri.

"Me too." said the captain. Pointing to Chekov he said, "But that one's picky." He looked at Ziem and added, "How about you lieutenant? Do you want anything special from supply?"

"No sir," Ziem replied. She had planned to acknowledge her inattention to duty and apologize, but seeing the captain of her starship bring lunch to an ensign had left her too astonished. She wasn't sure it was against regulations, but she didn't like the idea of superior officers giving even small gifts to their subordinates. The chief's expression made it clear that he agreed entirely.

"I love these." Chekov said happily. He opened his pack and stuffed three of the packets deep inside.

"I know you do. That's why I nabbed them for you. Just don't tell Bones."

"Dr. McCoy? Don't worry Captain Kirk, I won't. I do not want a lecture on adding variety to my diet. I do not want variety in my diet. I want to eat mac and cheese." Chekov paused and then added, "Thank you so much. You did not have to do this."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to. I owed you for not having to eat artificial salmon last night."

Chekov shook his head. "None of that was my idea." He smiled mischievously up at the captain and added, "Maybe you should thank Lieutenant Lapinski?"

The captain chuckled and said, "No, and besides, I don't think he's the macaroni and cheese type, especially not after the discussion he had with Mr. Spock. It is my experience that having Mr. Spock explain your responsibilities to you leaves you really needing something stronger, much stronger and more liquid."

"It is probably my turn next," Chekov said morosely. He looked at the ration pack and added thoughtfully. "And if that is true, perhaps I should eat this now while I can still enjoy it."

"Go ahead," said the captain. "It's yours."

The captain grabbed a breakfast off the pack and sat down on the other side of Geoff. They began talking sports. The captain wanted to know who Geoff favored in the upcoming All Earth Rugby Championship Tourney. The chief sat down too, a little unwillingly. Ziem understood, he was unhappy with the captain right now, but he got very few opportunities to discuss rugby and could not bring himself to pass one up. He and Geoff favored different teams. The captain egged them on, and the discussion got enthusiastic. Chekov ignored it, and fiddled with his rations packet.

Ziem watched disapprovingly. She was disappointed in the senior officers. She was concerned that Captain Kirk's kindness could cause real trouble. The gift might seem unimportant. Geoff did not resent it, but if he heard about it, Lieutenant Lapinski certainly would. Was it possible the captain had not noticed the tension Pasha caused the whole crew by worrying more about not offending Mr. Spock than he had about providing dinner? And this was much worse. Pasha was young, and only an ensign, Captain Kirk was their leader. Everyone looked to him for guidance. He had to know that no group benefitted from having one member considered above the others. And she knew the chief agreed with her, she felt like he should say something.

Ziem watched the men seated around the fire. Pasha was still twirling the packet, glancing occasionally at the captain, his expressive eyes full of admiration. Everyone else was arguing rugby. The chief was happily caught up in the discussion. She didn't understand how he could not care, and wondered what she was missing. She sighed, took a breakfast pack for herself, and then sat back down.

After a minute Pasha looked up at her and said quietly, "I feel foolish, first you, and now the captain."

"What?" asked Ziem.

He held out the packet for her to see. "Yesterday you brought me lunch and today the captain has. This is not fair. I have to learn to be braver about eating things I don't like."

Ziem frowned, she hadn't thought of it that way, but he was right. When she took the beef for him yesterday, she had been guilty of what she had just been faulting the captain for. And he had at least been discreet; she hadn't. She remembered hoping to provoke the lieutenants. She was in no position to judge anyone, certainly not her commander.

She was frustrated to feel a blush climb up her neck again. She wished this mission would end. It was painful. The work was not demanding. She was bored and had too much time to visit with the crew. It was not like her to get involved in their squabbles and pleasures. She was paying too much attention to them. It was interesting, but it interfered with her focus. She was ready to return to the ship where her responsibilities were clear and nothing encouraged her to make judgements.

Chekov didn't notice her reaction. He continued to turn the packet over in his hands, staring at it thoughtfully. The captain, who had jumped up to get himself more coffee, stopped to watch. He asked, "What's up Chekov? I thought you said you were going to eat that now?"

The young man looked up and said, "Captain, perhaps I should listen to Lieutenant Uhura and try to eat things I don't like."

"Perhaps you should, but listen, how about if when you do, we agree you don't give her credit for it? You know her. She doesn't need to feel any more omnipotent than she already does."

Ziem felt confused. It was almost exactly what Lieutenant Uhura had said about the captain. Did all humans feel that all other humans were too self-confident? Ziem felt like this was the sort of information that should be included in classes at the academy. It was too difficult to understand these species specific nuances if you were never taught about them.

"Also," continued Chekov, frowning at the food, "I know I was not very pleasant last night, and I am sorry."

Kirk laughed and reached out to tousle the younger man's hair. "Hey, you know you don't have to be happy all the time, right? But we do all kind of like it that you are."

Chekov rolled his eyes. The captain laughed harder.

Chief Giotto frowned. "Coffee ensign?" he asked gruffly. Ziem was reassured to think he was probably trying to distract the captain. She expected him to be disturbed when Captain Kirk was so casual with the junior officers.

Chekov looked at the chief doubtfully, and then glanced at the captain quickly before he shook his head.

The captain laughed harder and said, "That resolution didn't last very long." Chekov shrugged guiltily. Turning to the chief Kirk explained, "He doesn't like coffee, he barely even likes tea. He's really more of an apple juice kind of guy."

Chekov sighed and said, "I will start being braver about food tomorrow I guess."

As Ziem ate her breakfast the rest of the crew gradually climbed out of their tents and appeared. As they ate, a somehow completely unrumpled Mr. Spock gave the team assignments. Everyone got one, even Dr. McCoy, who interrupted Lieutenant Sascheja when she began to lecture the crew on the amounts of water required to replace fluids lost to perspiration. He said, "Any of you faint because you're too stupid to drink when you're thirsty, don't expect me to be gentle when I am fixing you." Then he picked up a tricorder and asked Lapinski, "Ready to get to?"

Burri made it clear he planned to stay around for a while. Chief Giotto absolutely refused to consider him staying in the camp without any supervision. Chekov offered to let him join his team, but Burri scoffed at the idea.

Burri said, "Walking machine across endless dirt, that is not work Pavel Andreievich Chekov. Work is cleaning courtyards of home compound after huge feast, and that is what Burri will not do. What you will do is waste your time. No one cares what silly information crew of illustrious starship Enterprise gathers. All of the Truleyphadru laugh at your crew for exposing themselves to the weather for nothing. You would do better to sit here and only pretend you went out. No one will care, no one will know. I will not take useless tricorders for a walk in the dessert."

"Well you're not staying here alone, so either get a tricorder or get driving." said Giotto.

"Bah! Some host you!" said Burri. "I wish to delay return to compound one day, just until feast is entirely cleaned up, and you insist I do idiot's task?"

"Really, I think idiot is a little strong." said Wilson mildly.

"What if I just keep him with me?" Geoff asked Giotto.

"If you want to be responsible for him, that's fine with me, just don't let him slip back here without you." replied the chief.

"Burri, do you want to go be security with me? It's fun, much better than surveying." Geoff asked the Phadruan.

"Don't talk to me like a slow witted child Geoff Hendorff. I know the difference between fun and a long walk in sun. I will go because it beats washing clan Truleyphadru vomit off stone courtyard, but I will know it's not fun." Despite his words Burri's tone implied he was quite happy to be included.

The morning passed quickly. There were so many teams in the field and Ziem enjoyed having more people to talk to. Then too, she and the other security personnel traded positions periodically, and that broke the monotony. She did suspect she enjoyed the morning more than the surveyors did, but she heard no outright complaints and saw no one slacking in their work.

The crew took a brief lunch break in the field and then went back to work. The afternoon was very hot. All afternoon the sun beat down on the crew. Dr. McCoy sent Ziem back to camp to bring extra water for the team. The parched ground crunched under foot, and the walk seemed very long.

The birds were particularly bad. The sun, or maybe the hunting they had endured over the last few days, seemed to have made them particularly skittish. The crew was all marked by their flyovers. The junior officers seemed to have grown immune to it. Ziem heard Rudolph on his comm with all the younger men, trying to get bets on who would be first hit, and who would be most hit. Some of the less experienced workers, specifically Sascheja, were very bothered by the filth.

At 1800 Mr. Spock freed the crew to return to the base camp for dinner. They dragged in slowly, listless and silent. Even the captain was subdued. Rudolph ate quickly and then fell asleep by the fire, feet stretched before him, hands clasped behind his head. He started to snore softly.

"Look at him," murmured Martin. "A perfect target for some mischief, if only I wasn't so tired myself."

Only Burri seemed unaffected by the work and weather. He talked almost constantly, complaining about the conditions, (apparently his people always rested through the middle of the day), the food (he wanted to go bird hunting, Chekov, cleaning tricorders by the fire, stared angrily with narrowed his eyes and shook his head each time it was mentioned), and then the amount of food he was served (three portions only whet his appetite).

Mr. Spock stood at the end of the meal and announced that the five crews working ten hours had managed to shave 100 man hours off the total left. He planned to return to the field and work another two hours. If all crew members of lieutenant rank or lower joined him it would greatly facilitate an early return to the ship.

Wilson, sitting by the fire, dropped his head to his hands and sighed. Everyone else matching the description Mr. Spock had given stood up wearily, and began to collect their tricorders. The captain said to let Mr. Rudolph sleep. The chief objected, but the captain insisted. He then said he would be working too. Mr. Giotto's mouth actually hung open in astonishment. Captain Kirk grabbed a tricorder and followed Mr. Spock, who had turned towards the fields immediately upon receiving his device. Lieutenant Uhura hurried to catch them. The rest of the crew members followed more slowly, exchanging unhappy looks. They were a sorry, unenthusiastic looking group.

Martin was the last officer to take a tricorder from Chekov, who then slipped one on himself. Ziem, uncertain if she should go or stay, stood a small distance off, waiting to ask the chief. Geoff stood by Chekov, waiting to walk to the field with his friend. Burri was on the other side of Chekov, and watched the exchanges with growing frustration. His friends gave him a wave as they turned to leave camp.

"Halt!" said Burri. "You cannot possibly be considering returning to the desert wasteland now! You worked through the heat of day without pause or rest."

"Just till dark." said Pasha wearily. "You don't have to come. You can stay here with Lieutenant Commander Giotto if you wish."

"We all really want to get back to our ship." added Geoff. "It will help us get there quicker if we hit it again for a couple hours. It won't be bad."

"It will be a stupid waste of time Geoff Hendorff. You will see. The elders of clan Truleyphadru told your leaders there was no need for more studies, and they know that is true. Sit and rest. Play cards. That is a good plan for evening."

"We don't really have any choice." laughed Geoff. "But like Pav said, you can stay here if you want."

"I will not stay here waiting for underdressed, allegedly senior officer to order me on fool's errand as they do you. By this time, surely the courtyard is returned to its usual splendor and all servants are returning to their quarters for evening time fun. If I drive fast I will be back in plenty time to have good, good fun." Burri said. He half closed his lashless eyes, which made him look sly, and added, "You know what fun I mean Geoff Hendorff."

"Um, no I don't." stammered Geoff, sounding suddenly shy.

"You say no? Hah! You should know there is not one thing that happens at compound home of clan that Burri does not see and know. Did you forget so soon the female with a green robe and yellow turban? I saw you leave the feast in the company of that one. What did you do if not having fun? What do you think evenings are for?"

Chekov, looking perplexed, turned to Geoff and said, "Did you really? But I thought,"

Geoff cut him off, "I am. I didn't. Shut up." Chekov closed his mouth, but looked unconvinced.

Geoff continued, "Burri, I swear to God, I just talked to that girl. That's all. I'm not saying I didn't consider it, but I'm kind of trying to get something going here. Plus the chief would have killed me."

"Too bad for you Geoff Hendorff, that one is definitely not a conversationalist." said Burri.

"Burri, do me a favor? People might get the wrong impression, so don't talk about this anymore, and especially, don't talk to the chief about it at all." said Geoff.

"Ha! You should tell your boss to stay out of your life. You are a servant, you are not dead. That female is well known to be good at fun, you were lucky to meet her. I have met her many times before, and would not actually be surprised to be meeting her again tonight and having much, much fun while you two walk wasteland in futile exercise." Burri said with satisfaction. He added after a brief pause, "This makes it easy for me to decide that now is the time that I am getting out of here.

He took a step back and posed formally with his hand over his chest. "This is goodbye servants of Federation Starship Enterprise. I will think of you always, just as you will think of me."

"Sure" said Geoff. "Well, drive safe. Nice knowing you Burri."

The Phadruan continued to stand and smile. He nodded several times, appeared to be waiting for something.

"Good bye. I too enjoyed meeting you." Chekov said. Burri still stood expectantly. After several seconds Chekov and Hendorff exchanged worried looks. After several seconds more Chekov asked, "Is there something else?"

"I am awaiting my leaving present." said Burri. "I understand your reluctance, I am a modest servant too; you are afraid your gift will be too much. Be assured, I am not inexperienced. All previous visitors have bragged of the glamor and glory of the Federation. I have been with the crew of Federation Starship Enterprise approaching four days now. I see no glory. I know you have it hidden. Suspect maybe it is in Pavel Andreievich Chekov's pack, which he never removes from his person. I like you two very much and so am giving you a chance to present me with a gift which will allow you to impress me with the magnificence of what you have."

"Well," said Geoff. "Honestly, we didn't know the custom. We haven't really got anything ready."

"Come, come, enough modesty. I am ready to receive." Burri wriggled his fingers like he could pull the unseen gift through the air himself.

Pavel and Geoff looked at each other again. Pavel reached into his pack and asked Burri uncertainly, "Have you ever tasted really good chocolate milk?"

Unexpectedly, the chief barked, "What are you doing?"

Chekov flinched and Geoff straightened to attention.

"Burri is leaving chief," explained Geoff.

"Great. Walk him to his machine and watch him go. Sabide, Chekov, get in the field." The chief did not look interested in further discussion.

"Aye sir." the three said together.

"Burri, just take the milk, you're going to like it, we gotta go." hissed Geoff.

Ziem and Chekov sprinted after the rest of the team while Geoff escorted Burri to the vehicle.

Just a little while later they were at work in the field, Pasha was watching his tricorder, and Ziem was watching him, when the brightly colored cube sped by. It looped back and stopped directly in front of them, but did not sink to the ground. It hovered in place. Dust swirled around it; alarmed, Ziem reached for her weapon. Just as she did, the vehicle's side opened and Burri leaned out. His lips and sharp teeth were stained a milky brown and his face was smeared the same color. In one hand he held his ornate universal translator; in the other he clutched the box of milk. "Pavel Andreievich Chekov!" he screamed. "I am impressed!" Then the side slammed shut and the cube shot away.


	9. Chapter 22

Chapter 22  
Evening, the Fifth Day

Two hours later, the work crew returned to camp. Most went straight to their tents, but Wilson and Spock went to the map, taking with them PADDs and tricorders. They were soon deep in computation. Wilson looked happier than he had in days.

Ziem found the chief, who assigned her the first watch before leaving for bed himself. She checked the perimeters, and then decided to sit by the biggest fire pit and rough out her mission report. It didn't offer an unobstructed view of the camp, but no place did. She reasoned that her tricorder would alert her to any movement she needed to investigate. When she arrived she was surprised to see the captain, Doctor McCoy, and Lieutenant Uhura were already there, drinking from mugs and talking quietly around a large fire. Wanting to give them some privacy, Ziem turned to leave, but Uhura called out to her.

"Join us, Lieutenant Sabide. There's plenty of room. Do you want tea?" she asked. "We have a whole pot."

"No thank you. I have some work to do, and I would only spill it all over the equipment." replied Ziem, gesturing toward her PADD. Then she rolled a rock over to the table and sat down. She tried to be unobtrusive, although she knew she could never be unnoticed. The others continued their conversation, and she turned on her machine, determined to work.

She found it difficult to concentrate. She thought, _What is wrong with me?_ _I am four meters from the greatest hero I have ever had, and I turned down the opportunity to join him for tea. They didn't ask me to dance, to give a speech, to do anything even a little embarrassing, they asked if I wanted some tea. And I said no. I guess when I am an old woman I can tell my grandchildren that I served under James Tiberius Kirk, and one time I sat not that far away from him._

Sighing, she turned off the PADD and tried to call up enough courage to say, "I have thought about it, and I would like some tea, thank you." She couldn't do it.

The others seemed to have forgotten her. The doctor was telling a story about someone he had known at the academy. The young man had been locked out of his dorm after curfew and had climbed up through the garbage chute rather than take the demerits he would have received for awakening the door monitor. Lieutenant Uhura laughed but didn't say much. The captain must have known the young man too, because he kept interrupting the doctor to say, No, that's not true," or "Come on Bones, that is an exaggeration," but he never supplied any real corrections.

Ziem was enjoying the story, and trying not to disturb it by laughing aloud, when Ensign Chekov walked up to the fire.

"Sit down and join us." said the captain with a welcoming smile.

The ensign stood for a few seconds looking uncomfortable, and then said timidly, "Doctor McCoy, I think I am hurt."

"Well of course you are." said the doctor standing up with a sigh. "You've been here five days; it's too much to ask that you not be hurt."

"Sorry. I was fine until this afternoon, but it is getting worse." mumbled the young man, hanging his head.

"Well, let's see." said the doctor in a kinder voice. Chekov held out his right hand. When the doctor grasped it, he flinched a little. Looking concerned, Kirk got up and went to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder. The doctor continued to study the hand, stretching fingers and rotating the thumb. Chekov grimaced but said nothing.

The doctor said thoughtfully, "The big cut is definitely infected, and the smaller ones don't look great. But it's not too bad yet. I'll call and arrange transport up to the ship."

"No!" said Chekov pulling his hand back. "I can wait."

"It doesn't look that bad to me, and we will be out of here by noon tomorrow. He doesn't want to be sent home so close to the end. Just let him finish." said the captain. Chekov nodded, looking anxiously at McCoy.

"Thanks for the consult Dr. Kirk, but I feel like I am qualified to make this decision without assistance." McCoy said with a frown. "Sorry son, it really needs to be cleaned up."

"I should never have shown you." said Chekov bitterly. "You always say to come right away to the sick bay when I am hurt, but always I am sorry when I do." He looked resentfully at the doctor, and cradled his hand against his chest. He added, "This will make Lieutenant Lapinski happy. He will get to say over and over again how I couldn't finish the mission because I was so severely wounded in a fight with a chicken."

"Oh come on Bones! You can make this work!" said the captain, gesturing towards the ensign.

Dr. McCoy looked speculatively at the young man. Ziem knew he had a reputation for crankiness, and with his perpetual scowl he always looked grumpy, but she thought his eyes softened when he looked at his patient. He sighed and then said, "Okay Chekov, I'll tell you what. Because you came to me early, it's not too bad. I am going to have to open it, and clean it well. I can give you a hypo that should kill whatever's growing in there. I will look at it again in the morning, and if it's better, you can spend another couple hours in the sun since it means so much to you."

"Thank you, thank you Doctor McCoy. I appreciate so much you doing this!" Chekov said. Ziem had never seen anyone else who could change moods so quickly. It bothered her a little to find it so entertaining.

"Yeah, well, we will see how much you appreciate it when I lance that thing. It's going to hurt. It would be a lot more comfortable up on the ship." McCoy sounded grumpy again.

"I don't care. I want to stay." Chekov insisted.

"Fine, I'll wash up and we can get started then." said McCoy.

Ziem volunteered to get a field med kit from supply. McCoy must have forgotten she was there, he looked surprised to see her, but he agreed to her offer. He made Chekov push his sleeves past his elbows and wash with disinfectant. Once the stasis field was set up the doctor had the ensign kneel on a stone and slip his hand into it. He sprayed a sterilizing solution over the wound. Uhura and the captain joined Ziem at the makeshift surgical site to watch.

"Your hands are different colors." observed the captain.

"One is clean. It is the only part of me that is clean." laughed Chekov.

"I think I know how you got it infected then." said the doctor, checking vials and laying out instruments.

Chekov shrugged and said, "Maybe, but remember also I spent the entire mission cleaning bird shit off computer screens."

"Hmmm, that's right. Maybe two hypos of antibiotics then," mused the doctor. "You are supposed to wear gloves for that sort of work."

"I did. You do not appreciate the volume involved. It is in the gloves, my boots, my bed roll."

The captain laughed, "Your uniform."

Chekov looked down and smiled. He said, "You noticed?" Then he added cheerfully, "I shall always remember this as the shit planet."

The doctor grumbled, "They're all shit planets if you ask me." He picked up a scalpel and studied it briefly before frowning at the ensign and saying, "Okay, numbing something that inflamed would hurt as much as lancing it will, so I am going to just do it. Now remember, no whining. This is what you asked for, right?"

Chekov was beginning to look nervous, but nodded weakly. The doctor reached towards him.

"Wait!" said Captain Kirk. McCoy paused, scalpel raised; doctor and patient looked at the captain.

"Do you want Uhura to hold your hand?" Kirk asked solicitously.

Uhura shot the captain a cold, cold look. Chekov looked embarrassed, while he was distracted, the doctor sliced his wound. Chekov gasped and let loose with a long stream of what had to be more Russian swearing.

"Okay, let's clean this out." the doctor said and then went to work with antiseptic smelling swabs. Chekov got paler and continued to breathe heavily.

"You aren't going to faint are you?" asked the doctor crankily. Chekov shook his head and bit his lip.

"Trying not to whine?" asked the captain in an encouraging tone.

Chekov nodded, this time more vigorously, and he started to smile.

"See that Bones? You say no one ever listens to you, but they do." Kirk said.

The doctor snorted and dropped the swabs. "Definitely two hypos of antibiotics." he said, reaching behind him. Chekov closed his eyes. He grimaced with the shots but didn't say anything.

The doctor started to wrap Chekov's hand in a clean cloth. He said, "Well that's it. I took a specimen, and if it doesn't look better in the morning we can run it up to the lab. In the meantime I don't want to close the wound. Sit by the fire for a while so I can make sure it doesn't bleed too much, and then I'll put a sealant on it before you go to bed. I'll check it in the morning and we'll see how it looks then."

"Thank you Doctor McCoy." Chekov murmured. He moved gingerly over to the fire where he dropped to the ground and leaned his head against a stone seat.

McCoy went and sat at the fire too. Hewatched the young man for a few seconds and then said gruffly, "Keep your hand up. It will throb less."

Chekov complied with the doctor's instructions. He looked unhappily at his hand and sighed again.

"Do you want some tea Pasha?" asked Uhura kindly. The young man closed his eyes and nodded feebly. She reached towards the fire for the pot and then asked, "Are you sure you won't join us Lieutenant Sabide?" Ziem froze, uncertain what to do.

"Sit down Ziem. She makes great tea." said Chekov.

"Yes" laughed Uhura. "I have a special recipe. It calls for water and tea leaves."

"Better than the replicators" said Chekov.

"That's faint praise, but I will take it." Uhura said, "Lieutenant Sabide?"

Ziem took a deep breath. "Yes," she said, "I would like some tea. Please." Feeling incredibly awkward, she took a seat on the rock closest to Pasha. He smiled up at her, and wiggled back to lean against her leg. No one else seemed to notice, but it made her feel good, like she was helping him. He sighed and rested his head on her knee. She had to remind herself not to stroke his curls.

Lieutenant Uhura poured tea into cups salvaged from the ration packs. She walked carefully around the fire to hand one to Ziem, and then one to the ensign. Ziem admired the graceful way she moved. Back in her own seat, Uhura watched Chekov, smiling encouragingly at him. The flames were reflected in her dark eyes, and Ziem thought wistfully that it must be wonderful to be such a very lovely woman.

Movement caught Ziem's eye. The captain was sitting next to her. He was staring intently at the ensign. Captain Kirk kept subtly jerking his head toward Uhura and raising his eyebrows, he was clearly trying to pantomime something. Confused, Ziem looked down at Chekov and saw that he too was studying the lieutenant, but he looked thoughtful, like he was considering something. She saw the young man glance over at the captain, who nodded enthusiastically.

Chekov chewed on his bottom lip briefly, and then took a deep breath, sat up straighter, and said in a pathetic tone, "Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Yes Ensign Chekov?" Uhura answered in a gracious voice.

"I wish, well, please, could you would do something for me? It would be so helpful, I would do it myself, but," he sighed, "I have this very painful injury, and, well." He let his words trail off and looked sadly at the lieutenant.

"Don't even try Pasha," Uhura said briskly. "You know I don't think you're nearly as adorable as everyone else seems to."

Chekov looked up at Kirk. He didn't say anything, but his expression looked like he wanted help.

Kirk chuckled and whispered, "I have faith in your super power. Try again."

"Or you could just ask me like a grown up." said Uhura

Chekov sighed and then took a deep breath and speaking slowly, said, "Please, please, please. Remind Mr. Spock that I was not responsible for the chicken situation. I know he is angry about it. Please."

"I don't think Spock cares." said McCoy.

"He cares." Chekov said emphatically. "I can tell by way he stands so straight when he looks at me."

"He always stands like that, like he's got a rod up," began McCoy.

"No, he's right." Uhura interrupted. "Spock's, well, he's not upset. But he's...somewhat disturbed by some of the choices made on this mission." Looking at Chekov she added, "I don't think he blames you though."

Chekov said, "When we return to the ship I am to assist him in the analysis of the data we collected. That means after we finish alpha shift we will be spending many more hours together in a lab. Think about how it will be! Already sometimes he will work without speaking for six hours. I will have to sit there in the silence, and try not to be annoying."

"Probably failing at it entirely," interjected the captain, matching Chekov's mournful tone.

Chekov nodded and continued. "Yes, exactly captain. And Nyota, all the time, I will have to sit there and know he is disappointed in me. It will be horrible. I will be so nervous. I will probably accidently erase all the data, or hit my head and bleed all over the computer and cause a ship wide loss of power."

Kirk said, "He's not exaggerating Uhura. Anything could happen. Think of the ship."

Uhura frowned at the captain. "You know that isn't true." She looked over at Chekov and continued, "and I have told you many times that I wish you wouldn't talk that way about yourself."

Chekov pleaded, "He will listen to you. Please, please explain this for me." He sounded so desperate that Ziem knew she would never have been able to deny him anything.

Lieutenant Uhura closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked at Chekov skeptically. He said nothing, but continued to stare at her sadly. He did move his bandaged hand higher on his chest, and rubbed it absently with his good hand.

Finally Uhura sighed and said, "Oh, all right. If it is that important to you, I'll talk to him. But you really are making far too big a thing of this. He knows you weren't the ranking officer. Anyway, it isn't the first time he's been exposed to carnivores. He generally thinks highly of your abilities, Pasha. You don't have to worry."

The doctor said reflectively, "He's been exposed to carnivores, but he doesn't usually get to experience them with the kill still grasped firmly in both hands and dripping gore from its severed throat."

"Oh my God," moaned Chekov shaking his head. He sighed and then looked imploringly at Uhura. "You will remember? Please?" he begged.

"Calm down Pasha! I still think you are making much too big a deal out of this, but I said I would do it and I will. I'll talk to him at the first opportunity I get. I promise." Uhura shook her head as she spoke, but she smiled fondly at the young man.

"Thank you," murmured Chekov. Ziem saw him glance again over at the captain, who responded with a knowing smirk.

Ziem wondered why everyone seemed to think Uhura had so much sway with the first officer. She decided it was just assumed a communications officer would know how to say things in the most effective way, to whomever she spoke to.

"Thank you!" Chekov said again to Uhura. Again, he seemed to have recovered quite quickly. He grinned happily. Holding up both hands he added, "I feel so much better!"

"It doesn't take much to cure you apparently. I will remember that next time you need surgery." said the doctor dryly.

"But sir," said Chekov sweetly. "It would not work. You are a doctor, not a communications officer."

Kirk and Uhura both laughed, the captain very loudly. The doctor looked suspiciously at the ensign, who smiled at him angelically.

"Good one Chekov! He got you Bones! The boy is scoring right and left today!" said the captain.

"What the hell are you going on about?" the doctor said with a frown.

"Nothing, never mind, how did you hurt your hand anyway?" The captain asked, obviously trying to change the subject. "Was it a knife? You can tell me, you cut yourself didn't you?"

"No, a chicken" Chekov paused and looking up at Ziem asked, "What did it do? Not bite, you said. I can't remember what you told me to say."

"Oh, peck. The bird pecked you. Ziem replied.

"Peck, pecked. Yes that is right. Thank you." He turned to the captain and said, "A chicken pecked me."

"When you were wringing its neck? Was it trying to fight back? One last effort before it lost its battle to the Great Blanket Warrior of Death?" asked Kirk.

Chekov sighed and said, "No, when I was stealing eggs."

"You stole eggs?" asked Kirk. The ensign nodded and the captain continued, "Really Chekov, It seems like you spent an awful lot of time with these birds. When were you stealing eggs? And where did you steal eggs from?"

"Their nests."

"Obviously their nests, but where were the nests? Did you have to climb a tree?"

"They are by the river. There are maybe a thousand spread out along the rocks. I saw them when I was surveying alone, while you were gone. I spent some time analyzing them, since they weren't there in the original studies. However Burri says it is not unique or important, so it was probably not a good use of time."

"How did you find the rookery?" asked McCoy.

Chekov didn't answer; instead he looked inquiringly at Uhura.

"A rookery is an area where many birds have their nests together." she explained.

"More new words, lucky me." said Chekov quietly.

The Captain laughed again, but repeated, "When did you go egg stealing?"

"The day you left, while I was working in the field. But please let's not talk about it. I have had enough of chickens. I don't want to talk about chickens ever again." said Chekov firmly.

"You may as well tell us. You know Sulu will just drag it out of you eventually. We'll all hear it then." said the captain, smiling fondly at the ensign.

"True," said Chekov with a nod. "I will say I don't want to talk about it, and he will agree, but he will keep asking me questions until somehow I have told everything anyway."

"But you won't be mad, because somehow the way he does it makes you forget you didn't want to talk about it." said Uhura, also smiling.

"Yes, and also, it will seem much funnier when he gets me to tell it than when I was living it." laughed Chekov.

The officers sat quietly for a few minutes, smiling at the fire.

Eventually Chekov spoke again. "I would have liked this mission more if Hikaru were here."

"I agree, but everybody can't go on every one." said the captain. "Somebody has to watch my ship."

Chekov nodded and shifted in his seat. His hand, which had been resting on knee, dropped to the ground.

"Keep my work out of the dirt Chekov." snapped McCoy.

"Sorry, sorry." said Chekov, raising his hand again and looking guiltily at the doctor.

"I should go get you a cooling pad. It might help with the swelling. There will be some with the emergency packs." the doctor said thoughtfully.

"Don't bother Doctor McCoy, I just remembered, I have my own." said the ensign and he slipped off his pack and began to rummage through it. Triumphantly, he held up two cartons.

"Is that chocolate milk?" asked the captain.

"Yes, and when you open it becomes very cold. Will be perfect." said Chekov happily.

"I love that stuff. Way to be thinking creatively ensign. Now open them up and let's get them drunk." said the captain happily. Looking at the doctor he added, "Relax Bones, it would be rude not to have some, and anyway, he's doing it for his health."

"Oh for pity's sake," sputtered the doctor. "Don't use his health as an excuse."

Chekov popped the tops and handed one to the captain and one to Ziem. He looked so happy that Ziem couldn't say she didn't want any. She took a sip and handed the box back, he held it in his bandaged hand.

"Okay, that's good. Thanks." said the captain after a long drink. He handed his box to Uhura.

"I know! Chocolate milk is the best idea ever!" crowed Chekov.

Eventually, even McCoy shared the milk. The five of them sat around the fire and traded boxes back and forth. Ziem didn't talk, but the rest of them chattered happily about many topics. Eventually the doctor asked Chekov about constantly keeping his pack on. Pasha defended himself, saying, "I had no choice, between Burri and" he paused and searched for the correct word, then continued, "...unsympathetic fellow officers, I had to protect my possesions."

"I could keep it, help you out," the captain said. Pasha and Miss Uhura exchanged an amused look. Ziem got the impressioin they were sharing a private joke.

"That was the last of the milk sir," Pasha said.

"Well then, never mind," the captain said cheerfully.

"What else of any value could you possibly have in that thing? And we only have to look at you to know you didn't bring any clothes, so just spit it out." the doctor said.

"One delicious mac and cheese meal," Chekov said with a nod to the captain.

"Only one?" laughed the captain.

Chekov shrugged, "Somehow I ate three today."

"You ate three packets of macaroni and cheese?" sputtered the doctor. "In one day?"

Chekov glanced at the doctor and spoke more quickly, "Also three PADD batteries, two of which are depleted, my PADD, and one very dirty blanket. I rinsed it but I am still not quite comfortable putting my face on it. I am thinking it must be recycled."

"The one you used for hunting?" the doctor asked. Chekov nodded.

McCoy said, "Definitely recycle that."

"Right now I keep it in my pack and lay on that. Doesn't smell too bad, and is a very effective pillow." said Chekov proudly.

"Isn't it a little bumpy? I think it would be hard to sleep with your PADD and all those batteries." said Uhura.

Chekov shrugged and said, "I usually fall asleep with my PADD. I have woken up with my head on it many times." He seemed confused when the other officers all laughed.

"That is funny?" he asked.

"No, not really," said Uhura, "It's just...well of course you do."

"And I have a communicator," continued Chekov.

"Don't you keep that in your belt?" asked McCoy.

"I keep one in my belt."

"He takes two," said the captain. "I told the quartermaster it was okay."

"Why would," began the doctor.

"In case he loses one, or breaks it, or has it stolen, or gets it wet." said Captain Kirk. "All of which have happened, most more than one time. Remind us Mr. Chekov, how else you have broken them?"

The ensign smiled guiltily and said, "Are the specifics really so important? I prefer to look at it as, I have had some adventures."

The captain and doctor laughed. Miss Uhura only smiled, but very fondly.

In the time they had been sitting together it had gotten quite dark. The light of the fire made it impossible to see past the ring of rock stools, so when a disembodied, spectral face suddenly appeared Ziem jumped. "Ensign," Mr. Spock said in his usual dignified way, "I have come to enquire as to the state of your injury."

Chekov said, "Thank you Commander, my hand is fine. Doctor McCoy cleaned it and I shall be able to work tomorrow." He sounded a little shaky, but, she reminded herself, he was not responsible for the camp's security, she was. She reached over to turn the alarms up on her tricorder so that she wouldn't be taken unaware by any other visitors.

"You might be able to work tomorrow, and you might not. I won't know till I see that thing in the morning." McCoy said firmly. Turning to the first officer he added, "Spock, you about scared me half to death. You look like a floating head in that blue uniform. Could you announce yourself before you slink out of the woods next time?"

Mr. Spock ignored the doctor and addressed the ensign. "Excellent. It is possible, perhaps even probable, that the screens of the tricorders will require a last cleaning prior to our return to the ship. Your work in that capacity has been efficient throughout the mission, it is gratifying to learn you will be available to fulfill that responsibility tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Chekov sighed. The captain chuckled and lightly punched the younger man's shoulder. Many times at work in security, Ziem had seen young men demonstrate affection that way. She could not however, imagine the chief doing it.

Lieutenant Uhura patted the rock next to her in an inviting way and said, "And you would hate to think of Ensign Chekov being hurt in anyway."

Mr. Spock took the offered seat. Sitting rigidly, he raised an eyebrow and replied, "Obviously lieutenant."

"Would you like some tea Mr. Spock?" asked Uhura.

"Please." said the commander. She poured him some. He took a sip and nodded his appreciation. Ziem was once again impressed by the daring of the communication officer. Not many of the crew would have been comfortable telling the Vulcan officer to do anything, certainly not where to sit. Ziem couldn't imagine doing so. Uhura seemed perfectly relaxed, and something in her manner even seemed to suggest she found the commander amusing.

"So Spock," began the captain. "Ensign Chekov tells us as soon as we get back to the ship you plan to hole up in a lab and analyze everything we did on this trip. What exactly are you going to be looking for?"

Mr. Spock took another sip before he replied. "Information gathered on any mission must be investigated, evaluated and stored captain."

"That is not really an answer Spock." the captain said.

Mr. Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at the captain. He continued. "As we have had difficulty with data retention on this mission it is particularly important. After we ascertain the accuracy of what we have transmitted, we will need to examine and catalogue the information. Our mission is to create a complete record for eventual reclamation of this land. Having fulfilled that responsibility, we will then need to begin our search for the individual responsible for infecting the mission's main frame with the virus that corrupted the data in the first place."

Mr. Spock drank some more tea. He continued, "I admit, I am somewhat unwilling to comment further on my goals. I have formulated a hypothesis to explain the data corruption, and am uncertain of the wisdom of discussing it."

"Why's that?" asked the captain.

Mr. Spock looked at the captain again. He was impassive as always, but Ziem somehow got the impression he was surprised to need to provide more details. Eventually he said, "The analysis has not yet begun. It is possible some information may be overlooked if one searches, even subconsciously, more strongly for those facts which support an assumption. It is a behavior I have observed before."

The doctor snorted and said, "Spock, everyone knows you would never leave even one stone unturned if there was a possibility there was dirt on the other side. You wouldn't let anything keep you from doing a thorough job. Don't worry about it."

"It is not my work I am concerned about doctor." The first officer said calmly, taking another sip.

There was a moment of silence. Then, "Oh," Chekov said. He looked over at Uhura again. At first she refused to meet his eye, and busied herself refilling her own mug, but when she did finally look up, she seemed flustered, maybe embarrassed. Ziem did not understand.

The doctor leaned forward and said, "Spock, are you honestly suggesting Ensign Chekov would be rendered unable to evaluate data just from hearing your brilliant thoughts on the matter?" Ziem wondered if the CMO understood how rank worked. His tone was dangerously close to insubordinate.

"A hypothesis doctor is a theory designed to explain a set of observations. It is not necessarily correct. But neither is it simply thoughts. Ensign Chekov is a human, and the tendency to maintain favorite suppositions even when they are not supported by facts is well documented in that species. I have many times observed it myself. My reticence is an attempt to avoid a situation of that sort."

"So you are saying yes Spock." the doctor sputtered. "Of all the many stupid things I have heard come out of your mouth," The captain cut him off.

"Bones, don't start." said the captain, but not angrily, more wearily Ziem thought. Perhaps even he was getting tired of Phadru.

"Fine," the doctor said angrily. He smiled unnaturally at the first officer and said, "Humor me Spock. Just go on and tell me, what's your guess?"

"Vulcans do not guess Doctor McCoy. Further, I believe I just stated that I have in fact formed a hypothesis based on my partial analysis of some of the relevant data." Spock reiterated firmly.

"I think then that I may have a hypothesis also," Chekov said slowly.

"Interesting, would you elaborate?" said Spock.

"Hold on just a darn minute Spock. Aren't you worried that him sharing his idea will somehow pollute your ability to write a fair and balanced report?" asked McCoy of Spock.

"Quite the opposite doctor, if I am aware of Ensign Chekov's preconceptions I will be better able to evaluate his work and can perhaps assist him in maintaining an unbiased examination." Ziem was beginning to notice that Commander Spock tended to sound particularly clipped when he talked to the doctor.

"So Spock, you are saying you don't want to tell him your idea, because it might prevent him from seeing at the whole picture, but he should tell you his, and not to worry, because you can always see the whole picture."

"Your analysis is quite imprecisely stated, but essentially correct."

"So basically you are saying you are good at this, and he isn't."

"Doctor, I said nothing of the sort," Mr. Spock said calmly. "Ensign Chekov is unusually thorough in his work, but he is human. It would be illogical to pretend otherwise."

"Is there no end to your arrogance?"

"My statement is factual doctor. To be arrogant about a statement of fact would also be illogical."

"You logically believe you are better," began McCoy.

"Stop." said the captain. Pointing to the doctor he added, "Bones, I mean it." After a few seconds of silence he turned to the ensign and said, "Chekov, talk."

The young man looked at the captain uncertainly. Kirk added, "I want to hear your hypothesis."

"Oh, it isn't really a hypothesis. I didn't analyze anything. I wasn't even thinking about the computers. It is just an idea that came to me after Burri left." Chekov said.

"Well go on, spit it out." said McCoy. Commander Spock stared at the young man, who surprised Ziem by not faltering. He seemed thoughtful, but not nervous.

"I think Spand did it." Chekov said.

"He didn't seem the type for cyber-crimes to me," said the captain.

Chekov said, "He almost certainly paid someone to do the actual work, but I think he is responsible for the virus."

"Explain ensign," said Mr. Spock.

"When he left I gave Burri a gift."

"That was kind of you," Miss Uhura said.

"It was not my idea, and it was not a big gift. He was eager to be gone, so I was surprised when he took the time to come back and thank me for it. I did not think he liked me. He had said that he did, but I did not believe him, because he was rude so often. I tended to get angry and not listen to what he actually said. I did the same thing to Commander Khose at the academy. Did you know him?"

"The Tellarite?" asked McCoy. Chekov nodded, and McCoy continued, "He was a patient occasionally, blood pressure issues. He had quite a mouth on him."

"He was brutal in evaluating our lab work. I had just started speaking Standard. If you think I am not good at it now, you should have heard me then. Every day he would ask me questions and then complain for thirty minutes he couldn't understand my answers. I thought he hated me, but then he recommended me for honors. I was shocked, but when I thought calmly about it I realized he actually had never criticized my work, he had only criticized me."

Uhura said, "Very common for the Tellarites. Traditionally, they consider what we might call polite conversation to be a wasted opportunity for self-expression. He respected you enough to insult you. He would have expected you to respond in kind."

The captain added, "Now that I think about it, you're right Chekov. There really are some similarities between Tellarites and Phadruans. When we were at the compound everyone was either bragging or complaining about everything. No one could just ask for the milk. First they would say the milk was bad, and then they had to call you inattentive for not guessing they would want milk, and then finally they would insult the hosts for not putting out more pitchers so they wouldn't need to ask."

Chekov nodded and continued. "I began to worry that I had been unfair to Burri, so I tried to remember everything he had ever said to me. I decided he wasn't trying to be rude, it is just how he communicates. Then it occurred to me that he had told me many times that I was wasting my time surveying. He said that his entire clan already knew it. I had believed he was just denigrating our work. But I wondered if instead he was trying to give me information he thought would be useful to me in the way he was most comfortable speaking? But, how would he have known? As a servant he would not have been a part of any important discussions about the factory. I remembered that he had also told me many times nothing happened at the clan compound without him knowing. I believe he heard it discussed; maybe at home, or maybe when he drove them to our location, but he heard enough that he was certain we would not be using our data. If the clan knew of the bug and Spand is the leader of the clan, then I believe it is reasonable to conclude Spand is responsible for it."

No one spoke for several seconds. Chekov looked around the fire hopefully. Getting no response he said quietly, "As I said, it is just an idea. I did not consider any real evidence. Perhaps, I am wrong."

"Actually, it makes sense; it's a more likely explanation than I have been able to come up with. Tell us Spock, what do you think?" said McCoy.

Mr. Spock brought his fingers together, tapped them and began to speak. "If you recall from the pre mission meeting on the ship our discussion of Phadru's political environment, then you will remember the vigorous commitment expressed by the governing body to the development of this particular site for the smelter. You may recall too, that all reports stated both the planetary and local authorities were insistent that they would be responsible for every aspect of the development. The vehemence of those statements lead me to believe that it is possible; indeed perhaps likely, that many Phadruans would be comfortable interfering with Federation work to accomplish a goal they were committed to.

"I then considered that most members of a society capable of inclusion in the Federation would know that a program such as the one inserted into the mainframe for this mission could not go undetected for any length of time. Phadru is quite unusual in that almost no meaningful work is done by the actual inhabitants. I thought it unlikely many citizens of Phadru would have a realistic idea of what those who do work regularly with machines would or would not notice. This too seemed to me to suggest those responsible could be Phadruan.

"I observed during the visit by Spand and his sons that they were dismissive of the value and usefulness of our work. They seemed to find our very presence entertaining. Each son stated several times that they would never allow anything to prevent the development. I experienced the same response many times while attending the…" Spock paused, clearly uncertain how to refer to the party he had attended, "activities presented by the Truleyphadru clan. It seemed a common belief among the beings in attendance that the Federation was purposely creating obstacles to prevent the project, and that those most directly affected by the planned development should act to facilitate the process. I spoke with no one in the compound who demonstrated any reasonable understanding of our assignment or the work required to finish it. I spoke with many that considered the development an essential first step to help their clan reach a social prominence that seemed very important to them.

"My perceptions were reinforced through my discussions with Burri. He was, as Mr. Chekov has said, quite specific in his statements regarding the usefulness of our work. He also reported to me that the entire clan knew our work was meaningless, and that eventually I would know it too. I too came to believe he was expressing knowledge of our data difficulties.

"Finally, I reflected on possible beneficiaries of altering the data on our computers. There were very few. There are no known competitors for the development, and if there were, it would have been more logical that they try to influence the project far earlier in the proceedings. Similarly, at this late date there seemed to be no benefit to any other clan to interfere with the work. It seemed impossible that any being with any reasonable understanding of the Federation, the corporate world, current technology, or general business principles could have thought that overriding our work and replacing it with previously recorded data would be an efficient way to influence the development.

"Having deemed unlikely an attempt to stop the development, I then considered the opposite. Could this program be some misguided attempt to assist the development? That too seemed to me implausible, as it seemed anyone capable of using the technology required to accomplish the goal would never have chosen it as a reasonable one in the first place. On further reflection, I have however, come to the conclusion that this unlikely scenario is in fact the correct one. The perpetrators were Phadruan, and the Phadruans most benefitted by the factory were led by Spand. I believe Spand is responsible for the new programming."

"Really?" asked Chekov and McCoy at the same time.

"As I have explained." said Mr. Spock. He seemed to consider the discussion finished and raised his tea to his lips to take another delicate sip.

McCoy frowned at him and said, "So you reached the same conclusion as Chekov, it just took you twice as long and three times as many words."

"The ensign and I independently reached the same conclusion. As I have said, we will need to compare our suppositions with the actual evidence when we return to the ship." replied Spock.

McCoy turned to Chekov and asked, "How 'bout it son, you got a plan to keep Spock from being blinded by his assumptions? Going to be able help him perform an unbiased examination of the evidence?"

The young man didn't reply, but shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared at his sore hand.

"Doctor," began Mr. Spock, but the Captain interrupted.

"I am going to agree with both of you. Spand is responsible for the virus. Although I am absolutely certain he paid someone else to create and activate it. The real question is what we shall do with the information." asked Captain Kirk.

"You don't need to do anything with it." McCoy said. "You'll need to report it and let the authorities deal with it."

"Again, I must remind you that we have only assumptions of guilt at this point. Any real proof is still in the future." Spock said.

"Right Spock, and consider, our actual mission was to do the analysis while we made sure we kept the Truleyphadru happy and cooperative. We've done that. Chekov was able to bypass the mission mainframe and back up all the data on board, right?" The captain looked at the ensign, who nodded. "And the Phadruans, or whoever the guilty party is, still think they were able to be in charge of the information we received, for whatever reason they thought that was a good idea, right?" The captain looked at his crewmembers for support. McCoy looked skeptical, and Spock non committal, but Uhura and Chekov nodded. The captain continued, "Then what would be the benefit of accusing the clan leader of a crime? It couldn't possibly speed up the project that we all want finished, and it might slow it down considerably. It goes against our own goals. I say we just pretend we never noticed the program, return to the ship and make our reports reflecting the information we saved, and go on to the next, hopefully more exciting mission."

"Captain, to do so would require the purposeful exclusion of information from our reports." Mr. Spock said.

The captain answered quickly. "Not necessarily Spock. We just allow someone else to decide if there was a crime." The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. His expression did not change, but Ziem had the distinct impression he did not agree.

Captain Kirk said, "Mr. Spock, I know it is important to you to be complete," Dr. McCoy snorted, the captain pretended not to hear and continued, "you go ahead and include a description of every problem we had in your final report. You can even research their cause and describe in detail how you investigated it. List all your conclusions. Make sure you include theories you investigated and rejected. And when you are finished, we will just send it back to Starfleet through regular channels, and hopefully the factory will be built before anyone gets around to reading it."

Mister Spock acknowledged the captain by raising his eyebrow even higher. Pasha looked at Uhura with wide eyes. She frowned at the captain. Only the doctor did not seem bothered by what he heard.

"Jim might be onto something. His idea would solve a lot of problems." said McCoy.

Chekov asked slowly, "Would you still want me to run a trace on the bug?"

"Our report could hardly be considered complete if you did not." said Mr. Spock.

"No, he's right. It might cause more problems than it solves. What will you do with the information if it leads directly back to Spand? McCoy asked. "Once you knew for sure you would have to include that piece of information in your report."

"I saw nothing at the compound to make me believe anyone in the clan, and certainly not Spand, has the ability or equipment to override the programing on our computers. If you do the trace and it leads somewhere else though, the information might help strengthen Starfleet's defenses against cyber-attack. I say we do it." said Captain Kirk.

"I suppose you could always say the trace was not successful if it does show the virus originated in the clan compound." said Chekov thoughtfully.

"The captain is not going to lie!" said Uhura.

"Oh, I thought that was what he is planning." said Chekov.

"No, no ensign, your captain is simply planning to make the report as boring as possible and hope it will get buried in a big pile and not get paid any attention." said McCoy.

"Maybe I don't understand," Chekov said uncertainly.

The captain laughed, "Maybe I should go write it out on some eggs, it seems like you don't have any trouble with those."

"Great, now we are back to chickens. Maybe Jim, you should finish outlining your plan to avoid reporting a crime before we begin again on chickens?" asked the doctor.

"I am not avoiding anything Bones, we will report everything. I'm just saying we don't need to rush it. Spock and Chekov can do their little investigation." Spock opened his mouth to interrupt, and the captain spoke more quickly. "This will of course be exhaustive and complete, in addition to reviewing and rechecking all the data it will require interviews, actually very lengthy discussions, with everyone involved even peripherally in the mission." Chekov turned his head to stare at the captain with dismay. The captain smiled more broadly, averted his eyes, and kept talking. "When they have investigated everything, Spock should write up their conclusions and then give them to me to review. I will do so, taking my time and doing a very thorough evaluation of their work. When I am finished, I will very shortly send the document right off to Starfleet, through normal channels of course. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

No one responded. McCoy frowned at the captain, and Spock stared at him with his eyebrow raised higher than Ziem would have believed it would go. Chekov gazed at the fire and sighed. Uhura finally said, "You know, it isn't that your idea is so bad. I get that you're the captain, and ultimately responsible for everything. I imagine avoidance is probably a very common way to deal with confusing situations like this so far out here. It is just that, you are so pleased to get to do things your own way instead of by the book."

"And that," said the captain, throwing out his arms expansively and smiling boldly, "is why you all love me!"

"Hmm." said the doctor. "You are always mighty sure everyone loves you, with very little evidence to back you up I think. Anyway, you'll have to do what you think is right with those reports Jim. Not that there was any chance you weren't going to do just what you wanted anyway."

"Probably," laughed the captain, "but I'm always interested to hear what the best and brightest have to say."

"Before you completely disregard it," said McCoy.

The captain nodded and said in the same happy tone, "I always consider it carefully before I usually disregard it." McCoy shook his head, but smiled wryly at his friend.

The captain looked excited, like he was eager for someone to challenge him. No one did. His crew sat quietly and stared at the fire. The stillness seemed to frustrate him. He started to look bored and drummed on his leg with his fingers restlessly. He looked around and eventually his eyes settled on Chekov, who sat with his brow furrowed, thinking.

"You had a good idea there Chekov." said Kirk.

"I had a good idea?" asked Pasha nervously.

"Your idea to just say the trace didn't work. And it wouldn't bother me at all to do it. It would make you look pretty incompetent though." the captain.

"Me?"

"Sure, Everyone would know you did all the scut work for the report, they wouldn't think Mr. Spock couldn't run a trace successfully."

Chekov shrugged and said, "No one would think about it for very long."

The captain asked, "Yeah, but wouldn't you hate for people think you failed?"

"I do not think I would care." said Chekov, but he sounded uncertain.

"I just know that I couldn't stand for people to think I wasn't good at something if I knew that I was." said the captain.

"I can't imagine the circumstances in which you would be able to keep your pleasure in your talents to yourself anyway." said Uhura drily. No matter how many times she heard it, Ziem could not help feeling shocked when the lieutenant spoke that way. Chief Giotto would have never tolerated it.

Captain Kirk didn't seem bothered at all. He smiled confidently and said, "True, I'm not one to fake modesty. I am capable of a lot, sometimes I almost impress myself."

McCoy snorted. "That's for sure." he said. The entire conversation was making Ziem quite anxious.

"None of you would really want me to hide my abilities. It would be wrong. Like, oh I don't know, throwing a basketball game or maybe even...losing a chess game on purpose." said Kirk, giving Chekov a knowing look.

The younger man threw a desperate look to Uhura, who shook her head at him before turning to the captain to say firmly, "None of us would know anything about that."

"How about you, Chekov? The captain asked, "Does anything I'm saying resonate with you?"

"No sir."

"But?" asked the captain.

"Nothing sir, I am certain you understand this better than I do sir."

"Always remember ensign," interjected the doctor, "differently may not mean better."

The young man clutched his bandaged hand to his chest, and rubbed it nervously. Finally he said, "Captain, sometimes I just want to watch vids."

"Did he say he wants to watch vids? I don't get it. Uhura, what is that boy going on about?" asked McCoy.

"Nothing." said Uhura emphatically, sending Chekov a fierce stare. "He's talking about nothing, and he has nothing else to say."

Chekov nodded nervously and went back to rubbing his hand.

The captain waited several seconds before saying with a sly grin, "Yeah, you don't know what you're saying and you don't have any idea what I'm saying. It's probably the pain of your chicken induced injury making you confused."

"And it is chickens again," the doctor grumbled. He turned to Chekov. "I almost feel sorry for you this time son. He's never going to let it go." Chekov sighed. The doctor continued, "Don't you feel even a little guilty James?"

"About what?"

"Well let's see, turning a blind eye to a crime,"

"I am facilitating a Federation project by not stressing what is really a minor inconvenience that might look slightly criminal on paper."

"How about using your first officer's compulsive behaviors to further your own plans?"

"He is going to do a thorough job anyway, I am just encouraging his natural talents."

"Continuing to bring up chickens."

"Alright, I am guilty of that, but face it Bones, the chickens are funny."

"Hmm," said the doctor, "if you say so, but how about tormenting your most eager-to-please admirer, who I have told you a million times can't tell when you are teasing."

The captain glanced at Pasha and smiled, "I have lots of admirers," he said. The ensign looked at him sadly, and then looked away. The captain laughed and said, "Fine, I will drop it for now, but I can not promise we will not be discussing this again." Pasha frowned. The captain laughed again. He stood up, stretched and asked, "Are you tired Bones? I'm exhausted. Giotto got us up at the crack. Do you think that guy ever sleeps? I didn't see him relax for one second last night. I think I'm going to go on to bed."

"I'll be there shortly, I got to clean up my surgery suite there." said McCoy, nodding his toward the used med kit, which was still littering the table.

"I'll help." said Uhura. Chekov nodded. They both stood, and Chekov reached down to help the doctor up. Ziem stood too, thinking it might be protocol.

The doctor scowled, but took the proffered hand and said, "I guess I'm a little too used to nurses doing all the tidying. I keep looking over there and expecting all that to be gone."

"Do you want me to get Lieutenant Sascheja for you sir?" asked Chekov.

"No ensign, that's quite alright." The doctor said drily.

The captain choked on a laugh, and said, "I would kind of like to see you go tell Sascheja the doctor said to wake her up so that she could clean up after him. Think she'd have anything to say to you about that Bones?" He reached out to pat the younger man's curls, "You are really very entertaining, you know that right?" Chekov didn't answer, but gave the commanding officer a sad smile.

Still laughing Kirk said, "Okay I'll, see you in the morning." and walked off towards the tents.

"Let me see the hand Pavel." said McCoy, flipping on the steri field and opening a pair of gloves. Chekov complied, holding his hand out, but his attention was on Kirk; he watched until he couldn't see the other man anymore. Then he turned to Uhura.

"He knows." he hissed.

"He doesn't know," she whispered fiercely. "He suspects. He's just fishing. Don't react and you'll be fine."

"Who knows what?" asked the doctor, poking at the wound.

Uhura looked questioningly at Chekov, who shrugged. "Pasha lets the captain win at chess. Well, it's probably more accurate to say he actively encourages the captain winning when they play chess." she said.

"Really?" asked McCoy, looking up from his work. Chekov, looking miserable, nodded.

"That's a smart move son." said the doctor returning to his work. "I'd keep it up if I were you."

Chekov looked dejected. Watching him kneeling, with his beautiful eyes downcast, and his hand splayed open under the field lights from the med kit, Ziem felt like her heart was melting.

McCoy scowled and said, "Consider your options carefully. Do you want to spend all your free time playing chess?" Chekov shook his head. "Well, if you beat him you will be playing a lot. He won't be able to stand it. Then too, consider if you want to apply yourself, start beating Captain Kirk regularly, and then watch him make out your duty assignment for the next month?"

"Definitely no." said Chekov.

"Well then, you better stick with denying everything." said McCoy briskly. "Now, as to this hand, it actually looks pretty good. I think I am going to risk closing it so you don't get it dirty tonight. I still want to see it in the morning, but I think you're home free."

"Thank you Doctor McCoy." Chekov said woodenly. He continued to look crestfallen, staring at the ground. Uhura looked at him and sighed.

"Remember when you said not talking was a victory?" She said. "Look at this as a battle. Ignoring him is a tactic. You can do it."

Chekov looked at her sadly. "I am not like you Nyota. I know I am going to confess and ruin everything."

Uhura was holding up a recycling unit so that McCoy could push the used supplies into it. She frowned at Chekov and said, "Oh for goodness sake. Do what you do every other time you want to get your own way. Any time he brings it up, just open your eyes wide and look sad."

Ziem assumed Pasha would be hurt by the lieutenant's comment, but instead he looked thoughtful.

"I suppose I could try," he said. "Do you really think it would work?"

"Well, I don't know for sure, but you seem to have pretty good luck with it. Even if he doesn't buy into it his yeomen surely will. They'll all think he's picking on you. So at the very least you'll get the satisfaction of seeing him served cold coffee." said Uhura.

"Sure son," said the doctor, "it will work great. Every time he implies you're a cheat, just concentrate on looking fawn like."

"I think the preferred term is puppy like." said Uhura, hiding a smile.

"Truthfully, I am not crazy about either one," said Chekov, "but I must admit, having even a pathetic plan is better than none. I am beginning to feel more confident now that I have an idea of what to do." His expression brightened and he added, "and we know how he feels about breakfast. I think there is a good chance maybe that once he gets cold coffee he will forget about me!"

"Somehow in one hour I've involuntarily acquiesced to the captain's plan to confound Starfleet and the ensign's plan to do the same to the captain." said McCoy. "You never know; when you get up each morning, what you will do before the day ends, do you?"

"Not on this crew anyway, like Pasha said, we have some adventures." agreed Uhura, folding closed the recycling unit and tucking it under her arm for later disposal.

"Aren't we lucky?" asked Chekov, smiling brightly at his crewmates.

"Indeed Ensign Chekov. Although there is no such thing as luck, I too have found my inclusion in the crew of the Enterprise to be a source of satisfaction." Ziem had forgotten Mr. Spock until he spoke from his seat by the fire. Lieutenant Uhura turned towards the Vulcan officer. Ziem was surprised by the brilliance of the smile she gave him.

"Luck, satisfaction, nightmare, whatever you want to call it, we'll all tolerate it a lot better tomorrow if we get some sleep tonight. Good night and I'll see you in the morning." said the doctor. He sounded far less gruff than usual. Picking up the supplies, he walked off towards the tents. Uhura and Mr. Spock followed. Ziem could hear them speaking quietly together as they walked away. Pasha lingered by the fire.

"You have first watch?" he asked. She nodded and he continued. "I hope you can rest afterwards. It will be busy tomorrow Ziem. I am afraid we will not be able to talk, so I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed meeting you, and I hope that we will see each other on the ship."

"I hope so too." said Ziem quietly; her heart began to beat heavily in her chest.

"Geoff has breakfast with me when he works beta shift. You could come with him sometime." he suggested.

"I'd like that." said Ziem, her heart thumped.

"Okay, that will be fun." he said with a pleased smile. "Good night Ziem."

"Good night." she replied. As he turned to go she called out, "Pasha?" He turned back with a smile. "Are you really going to try to trick the captain?"

He shrugged and said, "I don't like to think of it like that, but I guess I am."

"Do you think it will work?"

He looked thoughtful, then shrugged again and said, "I would guess not, but then, I did not think it would work on Lieutenant Uhura today either. He told me it would, and he was right. So it is worth trying, I think."

"Captain Kirk told you to do that?" asked Ziem.

"It was all his idea. He could tell I was worried about Mr. Spock, he said to ask her to fix it. He said she would help me if I made it clear I really needed her to do so." He smiled mischievously and added, "Actually he said she wouldn't able to say no if I totally groveled. I think my way to say it is more dignified. Do you agree?"

"I guess so. But couldn't you have just asked her?"

Chekov said ruefully, "Like she said? Like a grown up? I do not think so. She doesn't like to be given responsibility for Mr. Spock. I would never have said anything without the captain's encouragement."

Ziem thought again that the command crew all seemed to have great faith in the powers of Lieutenant Uhura's communication skills.

"I was not comfortable today, just now." She wasn't comfortable talking about it either, but she wanted him to know she cared.

"Just now?" He seemed confused. "Oh, you mean when the captain was teasing me." She nodded. He said thoughtfully, "You know the doctor is wrong, I usually do know, I just can't think what to say." He smiled and added, "Do not worry, now that I have a plan I feel better about the chess part. Anyway, it bothered me more when Mr. Spock implied I was not good at research. He is probably right. He usually is. And the captain is right too. Chickens are funny."

"You don't seem very upset."

"I am not." He looked at her closely, and then asked, "Are you? But Ziem, I am lucky. It is impossible to tease a stranger; the joke only works if you personalize it. The captain of my ship knows me that well. How many ensigns can say that?"

She suddenly felt very overwhelmed. She wanted to be alone and think. "Sleep well Pasha." she said. She worried she sounded abrupt, but he didn't seem bothered at all.

He smiled. "I will, thank you Ziem," he said.

After he left Ziem sat in the dark and thought. She knew she should start her report, but instead she replayed the evening in her mind. _I finally spent time in the company of Captain Kirk_. _I can literally write home about it. I wonder what I should say._ She considered her commanding officer. He was nothing like what she had always assumed. He was maybe less noble, but much more interesting. Lieutenant Uhura had said he didn't need anyone else to praise him, and now Ziem understood what she had meant. But she still wasn't sure she agreed.

He liked to do the unexpected. The captain had gotten the doctor to let Pasha finish the mission. Pasha was an ensign; there were probably 75 others on the ship, many of them perfectly capable of taking over for him. But the captain, despite having teased him for the entire length of the mission, had obviously cared about how this particular ensign felt, and had arranged for him to stay. She thought she might like the real captain, kind and funny, more than the imaginary one she had admired for so long.

Of course, she admired Mr. Giotto too. She knew that in the same situation he might have had similar feelings, but he would never have allowed them to supersede routine. Nor could she imagine the chief counseling any ensign on how to get a lieutenant to do a favor for them. He would always value the mission above the individual, and she had always respected that.

She knew the common Starfleet stereotype of the faceless red shirt, but far from resenting it, Ziem had always considered it to be a worthy, maybe even, the very best objective of service. She followed the rules to the letter, and put as little of her individuality in to each situation as was practically possible. Sometimes she had even wondered if one of the reasons she hated being the largest person in her division was that she knew she was never nondescript. She strove to be an essential but interchangeable member of the team.

Until this mission she had never questioned that goal. Her childhood on Bahz had prepared her well for it, and as a being uncomfortable with much attention, she longed for anonymity. But the captain did the opposite. Perhaps because they were such a small group, and had been through so much together, or perhaps because they were a stable unit and didn't have the frequent personnel changes inherent in security, or maybe because of the influence of their charismatic leader, but every member of the bridge crew did too. _I only just noticed this. And I should be truthful; I only noticed it because I am watching Pasha so closely, which is embarrassing. Normally, I do my job, and I don't care about who I am doing it with. But he kind of interests me, which is ridiculous, because he is too young and way, way too small for me. And I should have said that when he asked me to breakfast. I am being stupid._ Her heart began to beat hard again. She shook her head and willed herself not to think of it any more.

She tried again to start her report. She turned on the PADD and opened a new page. But her imagination kept returning to the conversation in which the captain had told Pasha how to get Miss Uhura to help him. It was really very impressive, for one person to be able to describe to a second how to move a third. The captain had to know both of them very well. Suddenly it occurred to Ziem that there wasn't a single being on the ship who knew her well enough to be able to do that. _I always think how painful it is for people to notice the odd things about me, but I forget that those are usually the things people treasure most in their friends._

She sat very still. _Do I have friends?_ She wasn't sure. She had people she ate with, and many people she talked with, about work mostly, but she had never felt left out. She told herself firmly to stop thinking and reached up to adjust the brightness on her screen. She entered the date on her work, but then stopped again. She stared into space and remembered Pasha's hands on her arms as he told Burri she had won their race. She had been so happy. Her response had been disproportionate to her involvement. She remembered the water fight and then the turtle hunt she hadn't joined. She thought about the star gazing she hadn't done. She felt wistful. She shook her head and told herself to stop being so foolish. _I didn't want to do those things at the time; it is silly to regret them now._

She turned her thoughts back to the captain, who she had admired for so long. He was different, and so was his bridge crew. They were a team, but they were far from faceless. She wondered if that was a good thing. When she watched them together, she felt like it was. It helped them be bigger than the sum of their individual parts. But there were downsides too. Ziem thought about Tim Lapinski, who was so bitter about his role on the ship. He was right; he would never be a part of the bridge crew. She wasn't certain what his specialty was, had never thought to ask, he was probably competent, but if he had the skills to compete with whomever he would have needed to replace he would have already been there. He didn't have the right personality to work his way into the captain's little group any way. The captain didn't like him. He took too much pleasure in other's misfortune. She couldn't bring herself to be sorry for him, but she could understand what he felt. Being valued for your self was wonderful, being excluded for it was painful.

Maybe no one knew her, but at least no one could tease her like the doctor did the first officer, or Miss Uhura did both Pasha and the captain. Captain Kirk teased apparently everyone he knew, even the chief, but he especially teased the member of the bridge crew. _I wouldn't want that. I am glad no one knows me well enough to laugh at me. I couldn't stand it._

She shifted uncomfortably and rubbed her chin _._ _Of course, Pasha is right. You can only tease someone you know well, and those may be the people you care about the most._ She thought about how Pasha looked to Uhura when he didn't understand. It occurred to her that she had no one she could ask for help with just a glance.

 _I spend my off time trying not to be noticed, and my work time trying to do whatever the book says I should be doing. I said I wanted to be unremarkable, but maybe what I really wanted was to be perfect. And that means that no one knows me, and I don't really know anyone. It sounds sad, but it is comfortable, and I have been satisfied. I still should be. But what if I am missing something important? What if_ _everyone knows everyone except for me?_ _I wonder if Geoff has a whole group of beings that love his constant interest in food, and cares about his wall ball scores, maybe cares about everything that happens to him. I never paid attention so I don't know. He might. Maybe it's his rugby team. Or maybe it's the guys he patrols with. Maybe even Pasha is part of his little group. I guess if the bridge crew is a family, then maybe they would have cousins in engineering and security. If I were different, if I could bring myself to be watching less and worrying less, could I have that? Would I want that?_

Ziem shook her head. She wasn't sure what she wanted. This mission was exhausting. She needed to get back to the ship. She needed to be where she knew what to expect and what to do. And when she got there, she needed to have her report ready. Determinedly, she turned back to the tricorder and began to touch buttons.


	10. Chapter 23

Chapter 23  
The Sixth Day

Ziem didn't sleep well. She managed to finish the report, but couldn't stop thinking even after Geoff relieved her. Still, she woke up as soon as the sun came up. She remembered having thought it might be a good idea to trying waiting all her tent mates out, and being the last one up. She decided to try it, but then found she couldn't go back to sleep. She kept wondering what was happening, and worrying that she was missing something important. Eventually she gave up, climbed out of the tent and walked over to the fire pits.

Rudolph had the duty. He smiled when he saw her. He held out the firestarter and said, "The fire went out. The chief said to have one going by 0600, I knew you would get out here and do it Ziemmie."

Being greeted by her hated nickname did not improve her mood. Ziem took the firestarter. "Why did you let it go out? You didn't fall asleep did you? And when we are on duty you need to call me Lieutenant Sabide."

"Did you see me asleep?" asked Rudolph.

Ziem ignored him and instead said, "I have a hard time believing you don't know how to start a fire."

He grinned and shrugged. "I didn't say I don't know how, I said I was planning on you doing it." He leaned against one of the rocks and smiled as he watched her work.

She did not like to argue, but Ziem felt it reflected poorly on the entire division when Rudolph so openly refused to take his responsibilities seriously. She thought she had a pretty good idea what the chief would say, but was surprised when she heard it coming out of her mouth. "You should show some initiative."

He shrugged and said, "When you show initiative people just ratchet up their expectations. I like to do the minimum and then surprise people with an occasional burst of competence."

She watched a flame work its way up the kindling. She wished she had just let it go. She was cranky because she was sleepy, it was the only reason she hadn't. Now she needed to respond. She closed the firestarter and stood up. While she had been busy Geoff and Pasha had appeared. They were standing at the edge of the pit looking curious. She nodded to them and then, hoping her voice wouldn't waver, said, "Mr. Randolph, you are really clever. You could make something of yourself if you wanted. Instead you have to spend the next two months packing sleds for other people's missions. That's work that is usually reserved for brand new recruits. Wouldn't you prefer to do something meaningful? Won't you be bored?"

Randolph shook his head, "I can pretty much guarantee I won't be bored at all. My sympathy is with whoever has to supervise me." Geoff laughed. Pasha looked a little worried; he slipped away and busied himself looking through the rations.

Ziem was shocked. She asked, "Do you understand how mad you make the chief?"

"Do you understand how little I care?" He added, "Do you Lieutenant Sabide?"

"Thank you for that anyway," she said, deciding to end the conversation by acknowledging the one tiny correct effort he made.

He saluted and said, "You're welcome, I am happy to please, as long as it isn't too demanding." Pasha was back, holding a stack of ration packs. He gave one to Geoff and one to Ziem. Randolph took one, then looked at Ziem and said, "Hey Ensign Chekov, what does she have you call her?"

"Are you asking what I call Lieutenant Sabide?" Pasha asked uncertainly.

Randolph nodded and still looking at Ziem asked, "I mean, she outranks you too right? A good officer wouldn't want to be unfair. And a subordinate is a subordinate is a subordinate, even the charming ones with curly hair." Ziem could feel a blush start to work its way up her neck. Rudolph smiled innocently and asked again, "Wouldn't you agree Lieutenant Sabide?" Face burning; she went to sit by the fire.

"I don't think I understand," Pasha began.

"Trust me, it's stupid," Geoff said firmly. He stared at Rudolph with narrow eyes. Rudolph smiled back, he seemed proud. Pasha looked up at Geoff uncertainly. Geoff said, "Hey, Pav, you know what? I think I left my communicator with the bags. Could you run back and check? I'll look around here."

"Yes, sure," Pasha said. He dropped the ration packs on the table and starting off toward the river.

Rudolph watched him go and then said, "Look at him. You said run, so of course he literally ran. That guy kills me."

"Shut up." Geoff said. Ziem looked up at him in surprise. Rudolph turned and studied the larger man. Grim faced, Geoff leaned forward so that their faces were very close. "I don't like it when you hassle my friend."

Randolph looked at Geoff and then over at her. He raised his eyebrows and glanced back at Geoff. He didn't look scared. It didn't make sense, but she had the idea that he found the conversation entertaining. "Okay," he said. "That's interesting, I gotcha Hendorff. I will shut up."

Geoff relaxed a bit, but continued to stare aggressively at Rudolph. After a few seconds, Rudolph added, "You know what, as long as you're here, I'm going to the head. Once the chief shows up I will probably never get a chance." Without waiting for a reply he ambled off.

Ziem waited until she was certain he couldn't hear she said, "Thank you."

Geoff pulled at his collar and said, "You're welcome."

"It was kind of you to stick up for him."

"For him?" Geoff looked confused. "Do you mean Pav? I, no, I mean, I wasn't talking about him."

It was Ziem's turn to be confused. "But you got him to leave so you could talk to Rudolph."

"Yeah, I just wanted him out of here because you can never tell with Rudolph. Sometimes he doesn't back down. I was thinking it was possible me and Randy might throw down a little, and Pav's not in security." Ziem didn't understand any better. Geoff must have been able to tell, he added, "Randy wouldn't tell, and the chief would never ask. But the captain might. It would put Pav in a bad place if I smacked Rudolph right in front of him. He would almost for sure feel like he had to tell the truth if the captain asked him about it."

"Are you saying you were planning to fight!"

"Well no, but I thought it was a possibility and if I had to I didn't want Pav to see."

"I should hope not; you can't hit an enlisted man,"

"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I won't, and believe me, I wouldn't be the first guy to bust Randy. He can be as annoying as hell."

"Geoff, we are not allowed to just beat on people when they annoy us, you can't go around hitting people, especially not someone you outrank." Ziem began, but Geoff interrupted.

"You don't have to get mad, I wanted to help you."

"Me," she snapped. He nodded. She said, "What are you talking about?"

Geoff didn't reply. Ziem thought she had never seen him look so uncomfortable, like his uniform was too tight.

"Oh," Ziem said slowly. "I was the friend you didn't want hassled?" She was surprised. She knew it shouldn't affect her anger, but she couldn't help being pleased. She had been worried about that all night, and it was good to have the question answered. She had friends. It was like finding the food in her backpack, unexpectedly nice. She shook her head and reminded herself that she was in a serious situation.

By the time she was able to focus on what he was saying; Geoff was in full explanation mode, and making very little sense. "Sure Ziem," he said, "I think you're a friend. Of course, Pav is too, but he can take care of himself, not that you can't. I would never say that. You are...highly capable, everyone knows how highly capable you are, kind of a team leader I would say, like a goalie or something important if we were a soccer team, actually I think most people would say."

"Geoff, I'm sorry, what?"

It took him several starts before he was finally able to say, "I know you don't like fighting unless it's with an actual bad guy. I just thought I'd help you out."

"Oh, well thanks." Ziem said. She did not understand what was making Geoff so uncomfortable. She wondered if he had realized how very wrong it had been to even consider striking a team member. A good officer used force only as necessary. Perhaps he was ashamed. She decided to reassure him. "Geoff," she said, "I know you would never use your strength against another crew member."

He looked uncomfortable and said quickly, "Ziem, there's something else,"

He was interrupted by a cheerful voice calling, "Hi Geoffie, what's for breakfast? I heard you talking and decided to come join you. Did you make coffee yet? I will if you haven't. I figure, maybe we can get out of here faster if we start earlier. Hi there Lieutenant Sabide, you sure get up early." Tremaine was waving as she came from the tents. Geoff looked frustrated.

Ziem smiled at the yeoman and then said to Geoff, "Yes, go on."

Geoff whispered, "Never mind," and turned to greet Tremaine. They made coffee, and gradually the others began to appear. First Pasha came back. He hadn't found the communicator and accepted Geoff's explanation that he had been mistaken about losing it unquestioningly. Ziem's tent mates followed shortly, and then the other lieutenants. Rudolph reappeared. Ziem watched Geoff nervously, she was afraid they would argue again, but they seemed fine together. It was as if nothing had happened earlier. In fact the mood in the entire camp was different than it had been on any of the previous days. Mr. Spock prepared for the day silently, checking the tricorders while sipping some tea, but everyone else was happy and playful.

Tremaine had spent her time in the field weaving necklaces from grass and twigs. She had added some feathers and offered them as mementos of the trip. Ziem thought they looked filthy, but Rudolph took one, and pretended it was an award. He gave an acceptance speech and demanded a congratulatory kiss from the presenter-Tremaine. Ziem was horrified when the yeoman laughed and complied.

Eventually, the senior officers joined the junior ones at the fire. Doctor McCoy unwrapped Chekov's wound, inspected it carefully, and pronounced him fit enough to work.

"So he's good?" asked the captain. The doctor nodded, and began to rewrap the hand. The captain and Chekov exchanged triumphant smiles.

"I told you he would be. He's tougher than he looks; he's not going to let some chicken put him out of commission. You should listen to me more often Bones." The captain seemed as proud as if he was personally responsible for the ensign's healed hand.

"I don't know about that, but I am willing to certify him able to clean every tricorder in the camp." said McCoy, making a note in his tricorder.

The ensign's grin faded. "At last, all my dreams are coming true." he said morosely.

With one hand Geoff grabbed Chekov by the shoulder. The smaller man stumbled along awkwardly as Geoff punched the air with his other arm and yelled, "Cheers for the best shit-off-screen cleaner in the fleet," even Lapinski joined in.

"Pav, you've earned an award necklace, wear it proudly." said Tremaine, dropping one of her creations over his head.

"Thank you. We all serve as our talents allow, I must acknowledge the chickens. I could not have done it without them." said Chekov solemnly.

There were more cheers. Miss Uhura rolled her eyes, and Miss Sascheja frowned, but Tremaine clapped delightedly, and leaned over. Ziem thought she was going to kiss him too, but the ensign shifted away and instead Tremaine gave him a quick hug. "You are so cute," she said.

Chekov looked mortified. Ziem was fairly certain she had never blushed that red. He said quietly, "But in a tough kind of way, right?" Captain Kirk started to laugh. "You said," Chekov began, looking hopefully at their commander.

"I never said that," the captain said, reaching out to pat the ensign's curls. His enthusiasm knocked Chekov back a half step. It had never occurred to Ziem before, but watching Pasha get tossed around made her think that there were certain advantages to outweighing other beings. Most of the crew was laughing, and making more jokes about being tougher than chickens. Pasha looked stiff and a little nervous pinned under Geoff's arm, but he didn't object. It was like a party. Even Mr. Wilson smiled mildly and seemed to be enjoying himself. Of the humans only Miss Uhura stood frowning, at the far edge of the group, with her arms crossed. Ziem didn't understand it. Miss Uhura looked angry, which did not seem like her.

Pasha saw it too. From across the fire he smiled at her and gave a resigned shrug. Miss Uhura shook her head. Pasha cocked his head like he was asking a question. Miss Uhura shook her head again, but looked more resigned. Pasha slipped out from under Geoff's arm to go and stand by the communication officer. She ignored him briefly, but then reached over to stroke his sore hand gently. Ziem suddenly understood, S _he doesn't like it that they are laughing at him, and he doesn't want her to worry._ Ziem watched. They stood quietly together while all around them most of the crew tried to out talk each other. Pasha smiled and Miss Uhura looked only a little frustrated. She thought wistfully that it would be nice to have a friend you could speak to without even opening your mouth.

The jokes got louder. Ziem heard Miss Sascheja say to Dr. McCoy, "When will this stop? I do not believe frivolity so soon after breakfast can be good for the digestion."

The doctor didn't reply, but he nodded sympathetically and patted the nurse on the shoulder. Ziem thought that for all she had heard he was grumpy, on this mission he seemed remarkably tolerant. There was another loud burst of laughter from the fire. Lieutenant Sascheja frowned again and said, "Shenanigans!" in an angry voice.

Although he did not say anything, Mr. Spock seemed to agree. He stood at the very edge of the group, holding a tricorder. After waiting almost half an hour for the breakfast party to wind down, he cleared his throat. Somehow, even without speaking he managed to remind everyone of the work at hand. They stashed breakfast things and grabbed tricorders. The first officer gave them their assignments and they headed out. Lieutenant Sascheja stayed in the camp to start packing up the supplies, the prospect of which appeared to give her great pleasure. Commander Giotto stayed too, supposedly to provide security, but he was clutching inventory lists from the antigrav sleds as he gave the duty assignments and Ziem knew he was going to begin checking for missing items as soon as the teams left for the field. Rudolph noticed too, and asked the chief if checking the sleds wouldn't be considered helping with the work of the mission. Giotto didn't answer, but the look he gave the young man made Rudolph turn tail and head straight for the fields.

The last survey of the mission went quickly. Everyone was in a cheerful mood. It even seemed a little less hot. Including time to and from the fields, they worked not quite three hours. Each time a tricorder signaled the end of the assigned work the owner would yell that they were done, and the other workers would cheer and watch the lucky one escape to the camp. It was more fun than many missions, and much more fun than this mission had ever previously been.

Eventually everyone was finished. Mr. Spock and Wilson collected all the tricorders and went to the map where they downloaded and copied data. Chekov sat by them and cleaned and packed the equipment as they finished with it. Captain Kirk assigned everyone else a job, and they all went to work. Bed rolls were packed, tents lowered, and recyclables stashed.

Faster than seemed possible, they were ready to go. Nonessential personnel beamed up first, so the chief told Ziem and Geoff to go with Lapinski, Martin, Chekov, and Tremaine. He kept Rudolph with him, explaining that he was going to have him assist with returning supplies to inventory. When she heard the plan, Ziem couldn't keep herself from smiling triumphantly. Rudolph said nothing, but looked at Geoff and laughed. The chief saw him do it.

"Rudolph, supply tent, now." Mr. Giotto said. Rudolph left quickly. The chief followed with his arms crossed.

"He might have pushed it a little far this time," said Miss Tremaine, watching them go. "I would never have the guts to actually laugh at Chief Giotto."

"Poor Randy," laughed Geoff as they lined up for transport. "He's got more guts than brains. He never learns, did you see the look the chief gave him?"

"I'm thinking he has a lot of one on one time with the chief in his near future," said Ziem.

"Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy," Lapinski said.

"What, you don't like him anymore? Do you pretty much hate everyone now?" asked Martin with a laugh.

"Not everyone, but many people, and I should warn you Martin, the more you talk the closer you get to making my short list." Lapinski said in the laconic tone Ziem had begun to associate with him.

"Ready?" asked the captain. He stood with open communicator in hand, probably in conversation with the transporter room.

"Ready!" Lapinski said firmly.

Ziem held her breath as the disorienting golden swirl enveloped her and Phadru disappeared. She came to herself in the comforting artificial light of the transporter room. She always found returning to the ship less disorientating than leaving it. She saw Mr. Scott, the chief engineer, and some coworker in a red shirt behind the console. Seeing the proof of a successful transport, they both smiled broadly.

"Well, look what the cat drug in. I can smell you from here. You are filthy, completely filthy, the lot of you. And it looks like you brought half the planet back on your clothes." said Mr. Scott. "Kyle, remind me to schedule an extra cleaning of the pads."

"Get Chekov to do it. He's proved himself a very handy little custodian down there." Lapinski said as he stepped off the transporter pad to the deck.

Commander Scott snorted and said, "Chekov? Not likely, for that kind of work I would be more likely to get some great lazy thing with no discernable talent. Someone like yourself Lapinski, what are you scheduled for next shift?"

The man called Kyle joined Martin and Geoff in a laugh. Lapinski scowled and hurried past the officers, murmuring, "Great to see you Mr. Scott." on his way to the lifts.

Continuing to laugh, Martin matched his pace. Ziem and the others followed more slowly. Chekov stopped and exchanged some pleasantries with the officers at the console. Lapinski pressed the call several times, but it was slow, and even Chekov arrived at the lobby before the turbolift did.

"Keep laughing Martin," said Lapinski quietly. "You just officially joined my Hate List."

"Oh no, and you didn't have all that many friends to start with. I want to try to redeem myself. Wall ball tonight?" Martin asked brightly.

"Sure." said Lapinski. "I'll meet you in the gym at 19:30. But only if you shower first."

A tiny, golden haired yeoman hurried out of engineering. She smiled widely when she saw them. The doors opened just as she arrived, she slipped past Geoff and went into the turbolift. She seemed very sure of herself, and Ziem wondered if she had been watching for their group. She murmured a destination, greeted Tremaine and then stood at the front of the lift, gazing at the floor with a contented smile on her face. In the very back of the lift Chekov stood almost the same way, arms crossed across his chest, smiling at the ground.

"Hey Martha," Martin and Lapinski intoned together.

"Hello." She responded unenthusiastically, without looking up.

They rode a little further in silence, and then Martin said, "How 'bout it boys? We're playing ball tonight. Want a rematch?"

"You want us to beat you again? What do you say Pav?" Geoff asked.

Chekov looked up, surprised, "Um, I am hoping to be busy tonight." he said, and then blushed bright red. The little golden haired woman looked back at him, then over at Tremaine. They both giggled. Ziem wondered, not for the first time, why some women seemed to find giggling such an acceptable way to communicate.

"You're hoping to be busy? If you don't want to play, just say no. You'll sound way less stupid." Lapinski said.

There was an awkward pause and then, Chekov said quietly "No."

"Fine, we'll beat someone else then," said Lapinski. "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

Chekov looked thoughtfully at the older man, then, in a more confident tone, he said, "No."

The doors of the turbolift opened, and both Martin and Lapinski stepped out. Lapinski kept walking, but Martin turned back and waved, calling, "Let's all do it again soon, shall we?" before the doors closed.

The turbolift began to move laterally. The little yeoman turned around. "You all really smell." she said with a wide smile.

Chekov surprised Ziem by stepping forward. He looked appraisingly at the blonde woman, then raised his hand and ran a single finger gently down her ponytail.

"Your boyfriend is by far the worst." said Tremaine. "I'm thinking if he actually hopes to be busy tonight, he needs to find a shower."

"That is true." said Chekov, still staring at the woman, with a wistful smile and soft eyes.

"Well, that certainly won't do." said the woman. She looked at Pasha through her eyelashes and said, "You know, there happens to be a shower in my room. You can come use it. I will even help you with the hard to reach places."

"What about your roommates?" he asked.

"It's the middle of the day Pav; they're all working. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"The bathroom? Gross. You two are disgusting." said Tremaine.

"I need to get clean clothes." Chekov said, still not taking his eyes off the young woman.

"Oh please, you've left at least enough clothes to put together a uniform. Just come with me." She said, adding softly, "I really missed you." She grasped his unbandaged hand with both of hers. They smiled at each other. The door opened. She stepped out backwards, using both her arms to pull him out with her. She tucked in underneath his arm and reached up to touch his face. He leaned forward, and the turbolift doors shut just as he kissed her.

"Sweet tableau." said Tremaine with satisfaction, as the lift lurched up again.

"Almost enough to distract me from thinking about what's going to be happening in the shower in like 20 minutes." said Geoff.

"Yeah," said Tremaine with a laugh and a mock shudder, "almost. You know, I think they might actually be the most besotted couple on the ship. Also, I think more like 10 minutes."

"They look perfect together." Ziem said sadly. Geoff looked at her.

"They kind of do, don't they?" laughed Tremaine.

"Rand said they always look like they should be standing on their own wedding cake." Hendorff said, speaking to Beth but still looking at Ziem.

"Did she really? Janice can be a bitch, but she is so clever," laughed Tremaine as the door opened. "Marti is lucky; he is really nice to her."

"He's nice to everyone," Geoff said. Ziem thought he seemed to be speaking to her.

"Yeah, he is. He is a very nice guy. This one's mine. I am glad this mission is over, I feel like I could sleep for a week. It was nice to meet you Lieutenant Sabide," Tremaine said to Ziem. "I'll probably see you later Geoffie." She smiled a goodbye and stepped out of the lift. It started off again. Geoff waved his security ID over the lift's scanner. He pushed a few buttons and the turbo lift froze.

"Why did you stop it?" asked Ziem.

"You okay Ziem?" asked Geoff.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Ziem asked woodenly.

Geoff just looked at her sadly for a few seconds. Then he said, "He told you he had a girlfriend Ziem, the very first time you met him."

Ziem thought back to the pre-mission meeting. "Oh yeah," she said. After a few seconds she added, "He never mentioned her again though."

"He wouldn't want to give Lapinski any more ammunition, but he's crazy about her." Geoff said. He was standing very close to her, resting his arm on the wall behind her. She was slumping enough that they were almost eye to eye. He looked at her compassionately, so kindly that Ziem didn't even really feel embarrassed.

She thought, _I will though, I will feel embarrassed. This situation is horrible; I need to get it under control before other people hear about it. I can't bear to look so foolish._ Straightening her shoulders she said, "Thanks for the concern Hendorff, but you're mistaken."

Geoff frowned at her, but kindly, like he was worried, not mad. She said, "I admit, I had some silly thoughts, but knew it would never work. Let's be honest, no matter what I thought I would never have done anything about it anyway. I would have just kept on watching, and thinking. That's kind of what I do."

"Oh, I know Ziem."

Ziem wasn't sure what he meant. She wondered if it was more human teasing. She was too upset to care. She continued, "He's way too young for me. We would look ridiculous together. I outrank him. I don't have time for this sort of thing."

"Ridiculous, what do you mean ridiculous?" Geoff sounded confused.

"You know what I mean. Ridiculous." she sighed. He still looked uncertain so she added uncomfortably, "He's so little, and I am, well, nobody's ever going to say I belong on a wedding cake Geoff. I'd crush it."

Understanding dawned on Geoff's face. He said, "Saying that is ridiculous Ziem. Okay so, Pav's got a girlfriend, and she's cute and he likes her. That doesn't mean you're not cute. It doesn't have anything to do with you. You're plenty cute Ziem. He just isn't looking."

"Okay Geoff, I don't want to be cute, and I get what you're trying to say, but I just want you to promise me never to talk about this to anyone, ever. Promise?" Ziem asked.

Geoff looked hurt. "Christ, I am bad at this." he said sadly.

As much as she wanted the conversation to be over, Ziem couldn't keep herself from asking, "Bad at what?"

"This stuff, all of this stuff." he said with a sigh.

"I don't understand," Ziem said.

Geoff spoke quietly, like he was speaking to himself. "Pav makes it sound easy. Just ask her, he said. What's the worst that can happen, he said. He doesn't care when people shoot him down, he bounces right up. He has no idea what this is like." He grimaced and patted his chest nervously. Ziem waited, and eventually he said, "Last night Pav asked you to have breakfast with us right?" Ziem nodded, feeling another blush start. "He wasn't asking you for him Ziem. Well, it's not like he was opposed or anything, he likes you and all, but like he's got a girl and..."

Ziem interrupted, "Geoff, what are you saying?"

Geoff looked at her. "Ziem, he was asking you for me. I want to have breakfast with you. I want to have dinner with you. I want to get to know you. I just can't bring myself to ask, cause I don't know what you think about me. You're nice and you talk to me, but you never really even look at me."

"I don't look at you?" Ziem asked. "All I do is look at people."

"Never, you never really look at anyone. I mean you recognize them, but you are always looking at them as part of the mission, or of the next mission, or the last mission. No one's as interesting to you as work. I kind of wonder if you think we're all interchangeable. But, I see you. I think you're amazing. You're good looking, and smart, and...Do you know I've hardly met anyone who's stronger than me? And you are way stronger. I think that's so, well never mind. But I could watch you at drills all day." Geoff paused and studied her closely. He took a deep breath.

"I'm a nice guy Ziem. We could have some fun. You should give me a shot." He looked at her again. Ziem didn't know what to say. Her heart was pounding, and her throat was tight. After a few seconds, he reached over and restarted the lift.

"You don't have to worry. I won't say any more," he said, without looking at her.

Ziem stood very still. She thought about what Geoff had said. She thought about walking the halls of the Enterprise with a man smaller than she, and the things some people would say. Then she thought about how happy she had felt the morning Pasha made her part of his game, and how hard Lieutenant Uhura had laughed when she heard about the spilled tray. She thought about the mischievous look the captain had right before he began to tease and how happy it had made him to remember what rations an ensign liked. Finally she thought about Geoff lying on his back under the stars, laughing with a friend and sharing a snack. _I want that,_ she thought. _I want all those things. I want to play, and understand the jokes, and have people I like so much I naturally assume the best of them. And if I want them, I have to try, I have to be bold._

He was standing by the door, arms crossed, eyes downcast. Ziem cleared her throat. "Geoff," she said. He looked up and smiled wearily.

"Pasha said he couldn't play wall ball with you tonight," she said cautiously. He nodded and smiled again.

"Would you consider maybe," she sighed and paused, but took a deep breath and pushed on. "Would you teach me to play?" she asked.

Geoff's whole face lit up. "Great idea! I'd love that! When shall we meet?"

"Could we get together about 1600? We can get dinner after if you want." She felt silly, and the conversation seemed stilted.

"That would be fantastic!" he said.

"Geoff, I may not be any good. I haven't played any sports for years. I really haven't played for years."

"It's okay Ziem it's a game." said Geoff.

"I'm probably always going to be really into my work," she said quietly.

"Ziem! I am totally getting into work. Seriously. You are going to be amazed. I've got a whole new attitude. Watch me," he said.

"That," she said with a shaky smile, "I know I can do." She took a deep breath and finished, "But the thing is Geoff, I think I'm going to try to do more."

 **And that is it! Remember, originally it was a love story. I thought I put in lots of hints, but they might have been too suble. But then, poor Ziem provided the point of view, and she really didn't understand humans. Thanks to those that stuck with me. The whole thing took me lots longer than I thought it would. My brother in law liked it. He wants me to say that what I called a camping trip was technically survival training at the Air Force Academy. He just enjoyed it like a camping trip because he likes the outdoors. He liked it even though some of his companions were jerks and he is a very picky eater. Food was unquestionably his biggest challenge. He kept granola bars with him even as he slept for weeks prior to the trip. He didn't know when he would be leaving and he knew he would be unwilling to eat most of the things available to him. At one point someone killed a snake to eat. He decided he would rather go without food for three days. But then they ran into some escaped chickens, and everything got better. He has told me several other adventures I think would make good stories, we will see.**


End file.
